A Emory y a mí nos tocó hacer la cena hoy.
En la villa hay libertad de cosecha en los jardines que aquí viven y respiran, es parte de los acuerdos. El que siembra siembra para todos, incluso para nosotros (los extranjeros) que nunca fuimos"los otros", desde el principio nos volvimos nosotros con ellos. Hay una mágica ironía en comer hierbas recién arrancadas por mi mano que un día será hierba en algun lado lista para que otra mano la arranque. Tierra con raíces, que bonito.
It was Emory's turn and mine to cook dinner today.
Here, in the Quaker village, there is freedom to harvest from the gardens that live and breathe around us. Who plants here plants for everyone, even for us (the foreigners) who have never been"the others", from the beggining we became "us" with them. There is a magical irnoy in eating fresh herbs, pulled out by my hand that someday will become a herb somewhere ready to be pulled out by another hand. Earth and roots, that's beautiful.