Architecture should be a collective act, a dialogue between the architect and society.
Only those who will risk going too far can possibly find out how far one can go.
Maybe every man has had two such women, at least two. Married to a red rose, over time, the red becomes a mosquito blood stain on the wall, while the white remains "moonlight before the bed"; married to a white rose, the white becomes a grain of sticky rice on the clothes, while the red remains a cinnabar mole on the heart.