Okra and Parsley Run Away from School

I planted the bags in someone else's car last Sunday. And remembered, how four years ago you said the seeds, dead in a paper bag, were symbolic of our Real.

Echo wächst vor jedem Worte
Wie ein Sturm vum offnen Orte
Hämmert es durch unsre Pforte
[Echo grows with every word/Like a storm from open places/It is hammered to our doors](qtd. in Derrida, Politics of Friendship 167).