Not walking on eggshells

It’s hardly a secret that anything remotely important for an actual social change is often highjacked by fashion and all other means of consumption till it becomes meaningless. Oh well, let them parasites steal you while there is still creation. Not afraid of drying the source of ideas and actions, it just feels ridiculously lonely, if not pointless. But I can’t keep moving on in any other way than caring.

We finally cleared all vases and beds from secretly spread eggshells, and we printed a botanic article on the questionable practice, but do people still read? It’s clear they won’t talk. This is weeks after we asked them to come forward and speak with the gardener to no avail. They have now seen the little cardboards with forbidden cracked eggs, that’s all: laws and prohibitions. Rights, but no responsibilities. Taking space, but never the time. Do they realize that nothing will stay here forever?

I wonder how much longer will we still be able to walk on clay with no applied varnish.