I never knew the secrets of planting for the future, preparing to tend for the delicacy of shoots. I was too busy searching for some moment that I could have to hold in my hand and keep as though it was some kind of precious thing that I would not need to let fall from my hand… ever.
I did not think that the growing world needed me to tend for it. I did not belong in its gardens and among the growing things. I was not connected to the world I ran through, searching out all that was new, bright and shiny. I turned my back on simplicity, confusing the simple with the stupid, whereas now I know it is those who turn their backs on the world that are the really stupid ones, the ones who think they are too precious to touch the earth, who keep a distance between themselves and the wind and the rain.
Out here, where the real things grow, far from the streets where I ran my youth down, there is a calmness, a rightness about life I never found amongst the bright young things, among those who believe themselves clever enough to see clearer than the rest. They were just as blind as the fools they despised, and I was just as much a fool for wanting to become one of them.
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