Each plant has a unique story. A plant doesn’t know its story – maybe it does, but tales of the hunt often glorify the hunter. A young avocado sprout is picked along the graveyard garbage pit. Its brownish leaves sizzle in the afternoon sun. They survive. It survives. Because someone adopted it to tender care, now it rumbles its leaves in this vibrant vigour. It dances to the wind...
Monday It’s funny how humans take things for granted. You wake up to the sound of a blaring alarm and cuss at your ceiling because it’s somehow that white board’s fault that you are up at 6:00 am in the morning to prep for a job you hate. You drag your feet to the bathroom with heavy eyes and a yawn forming in your throat and pat blindly in your cabinet for your toothbrush...
