Photo: Maarten Zeehandelaar
I go to the grocery store, and buy fruit.
There is fruit I recognize, like apples and bananas.
Other kinds of fruit are completely new to me like the broad leaf bramble or the Florida strangler fig.
These are real fruits, I realize, and not random words the grocer made up.
I wonder, should I buy something exotic, do I feel adventurous?
I imagine that an entrepreneur would say: “I’ll just put these grumichamas through the juicer and whip up a healthy soda”.
Instead I buy apples, the kind my grandmother would cut into eight parts, and afterwards cut the peel off of.
I go home and perform the same actions, savouring the taste of each individual part of a nice fresh apple.
Outside in my garden, flowers that I can’t tell apart grow tall in the bright spring sun.
My grandmother would’ve been able to distinguish between the flowers.
I was, and still am, more interested in digging holes in the backyard than planting things.
I could tell you all about the right approach to digging big holes.
My grandmother would probably have thought they all looked very much alike.
Text by: Wibo Kosters
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