The more heightened the fantasy, the more specific the pleasure. These make-believe flowers didn’t push up from the earth, and may never be confused for the genuine article, but their beauty exists in a realm of its own – guided into creation by human longing, plucked into existence by thousands of mechanical fingers, blooming in defiance of the impermanence of nature or the topsoil’s temperature.

Artificiality can be a playground for the senses, giving way to an undeniably authentic experience. So go ahead, have your spring daffodils in February, burrow deeply into the bluest rose, sheathe yourself in a cape of orchids spun from the very blackest silk. Seeking itself in uncanny valleys, pleasure nearly always finds what it’s looking for.