Imagine my surprise when I reached inside this bouquet of flowers at the Shrine of Chimayo in New Mexico only to find hard, ceramic calla lilies. The thin sheet of cellophane wrapped around the flowers converts any artistic intentions to the language of the roadside memorial. How strong is the iconic power of a piece of cellophane that remains attached to some small trinket of culture. It reduces that which it embraces to a symbol of a grief postponed, a mourning too raw to name, to a memory we can all retrieve but can never share.