Wild Garlic
I woke up with the thought that texts are constantly living in my head.
They are simply there.
I never write them down.
Sometimes they live there while I am thinking about something completely different.
Today I was thinking about wild garlic.
At the moment, I am offering a work with these flowers for sale.
They are gentle, quiet, very simple. White.
And in that moment, other lives immediately surface in my mind.
I know one place where wild garlic grows.
I often drive past it because I work as a delivery driver.
In spring, when its time comes, I always stop there and collect it.
I pick a lot. Sometimes together with the flowers.
The last time, I remember it especially clearly.
I came home, sorted what I had gathered,
chose the little flowers,
and from that came an imperfect but very honest bouquet.
I thought then:
this is beauty —
quiet, unobtrusive,
the kind that is easy to overlook.
That is how the photograph appeared.
And the text — it was already there.
It was simply waiting.
