This week I had the privilege of spending a little time in the serene tropical botanical gardens of
Fairchild. Eighty-three vast acres of over 1000 tropical plant species with origins from all over the world. All living harmoniously together in the natural climate of Southern Florida.
The forests are sweeping, as you amble about ambiguously--on or off the path; in or out of awareness to the thousands of organic happenings around you. It was a Wednesday where not many people visit during the week. The space feels privately aroused like secrets you pride to keep. And then, right before leaving I came across this dark green passage covered in vines and strings with little, quiet wishes and reminisces of children writing dreams on paper to tie away. But these weren't just children. These were childlike men and women, families and friends that wanted better. I almost felt impolite as a read through their dreams, thinking how I wished for some of the same... well, except for that one
down there.
Comments