White asparagus blues
A thought came to me as I stood obediently by the side of an empty road, a road devoid of traffic as far as the eye could see, which was a long way. Nothing was going to scream unforeseen round a corner to menace all of us waiting patiently for a little green person to beep us safely across the road.
The same thought recurred at the end of my journey, as we alighted, and the crowd waiting to get onto the train stood quietly to one side without pushing, or shoving, or getting in the way. The train, incidentally, claimed to have touched 298 kph and I swear I didn’t feel a thing.
A young girl walked up from along the platform, and took some time deciding exactly which of four waste bins should be the one to receive her apple core, and still I could not shake the thought.
Could this be why some countries are in a position to bail out other countries?
And then I saw what they did to asparagus; large, white, flaccid, wet and “delicate”. So delicate, in fact, that I was barely aware of their presence as I later relieved myself of an excellent beer or two. And another thought came to me.
Is it really worth all that civic good behaviour, if it denies the fundamental telos of asparagus?
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