Ешь, молись, люби

Chapter 79

           Andwhynot?It’smyEden,isitnot?SoonI’vegivenalltheplantsaroundherenewmonikers-daffodiltree,cabbage-palm,prom-dressweed,spiralshow-off,tip-toeblossom,melancholy-vineandaspectacularpinkorchidIhavechristened"Baby’sFirstHandshake."Theunnecessaryandsuperfluousvolumeofpurebeautyaroundhereisnottobebelieved.Icanpickpapayasandbananasrightoffthetreesoutsidemybedroomwindow.There’sacatwholivesherewhoisenormouslyaffectionatetomeforthehalfhoureverydaybeforeIfeedhim,thenmoanscrazilytherestofthetimelikehe’shavingVietnamWarflashbacks.Oddly,Idon’tmindthis.Idon’tmindanythingthesedays.Ican’timagineorrememberdiscontent.

           Thesounduniverseisalsospectaculararoundhere.Intheeveningsthere’sacricketorchestrawithfrogsprovidingthebassline.Inthedeadofnightthedogshowlabouthowmisunderstoodtheyare.Beforedawntheroostersformilesaroundannouncehowfreakingcoolitistoberoosters.("WeareROOSTERS!"theyholler."WearetheonlyoneswhogettobeROOSTERS!")Everymorningaroundsunrisethereisatropicalbirdsongcompetition,andit’salwaysaten-waytieforthechampionship.Whenthesuncomesouttheplacequietsdownandthebutterfliesgettowork.Thewholehouseiscoveredwithvines;IfeellikeanydayitwilldisappearintothefoliagecompletelyandIwilldisappearwithitandbecomeajungleflowermyself.TherentislessthanwhatIusedtopayinNewYorkCityfortaxifareeverymonth

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