Buying a book isn't reading a book
Home Affairs: Brunch ruined, souvenirs, a new publication, a strange phobia, another horrible compulsion, and the deepest layer of a human.
Even though I was on a deadline and should’ve been editing, I spent three hours watching YouTube videos about tropical gardens and their owners. Many of those gardens were here, in Miami. Every five seconds, I had to pause the video and write down the name of a wonderful plant. Daydreaming about a lush garden is easy, and I do it. They say keeping the beauty within a garden requires a lot of consistency and hard work. I believe what they say but just take a look at their faces! They look happy. These people seem to be closer to the source that will grant us all peace when we die. I say that in both a good and a not-so-good way. I long for peace without decay. But that is an impossible thing to achieve. You cannot have the wisdom without the wrinkles. Many have tried. And, let me tell you, it never ends well. But the happiness of a garden is a promise nature often keeps.
Speaking of tropical gardens, if you speak (and read) Spanish, you should know I’ve launched a new publication on Substack: Aún no se lo he dicho a mi jardín. Covering all things garden and neuroses, but in Spanish. Oh! And the best part: It’s free!
There’s something I need to get out of my chest: Brunch has been ruined and I want it back. Maybe you didn’t know this, but before avocado on toast was invented, I used to have brunch (RIP) every weekend with my father. It wasn’t a fashionable meeting. It wasn’t a backdrop for taking pictures. It wasn’t even an excuse to get drunk at 11 in the morning. It was a habit born out of pure practicality. You wake up late. You’re not quite hungry but you know you’ll want a feast. You can’t choose between sweet and savory. Breakfast! And! Lunch! Boom. There you go. You save up time and energy to do other leisurely things.