Opinion of Author
On the kitchen windowstill there is a half-pint beer mug, filled with flowers. Blooming, beautiful white flowers. From my special Valentine.
These flowers were taken out of a skip, some people would say “liberated”, by a small motley crew that goes out at night to rummage through garbage in order to find teh noms, food. Unspoiled food, that later is brought to the same kitchen, partially discarded, throughly cleaned, lovely cooked and eagerly eaten.
Yes, lots of food is thrown out every day by grocery shops. Supply chain planning ensures that a steady amount of food is brought to shops to be sold to consumers or, should not enough consumer cough-up enough cash, thrown away; good planning and long shelf-life ensure minimum waste, but as demand waxes and wanes, food that is going out of date the next day appears, still perfectly wrapped in that kidproof packaging that sometimes causes adults to struggle, in skips.
Illegal to sell, often perfectly safe to eat; there lies the fine line between a nice meal and 40 cases of food poisoning. Our kitchen crew rigorously checks conditions of food and packaging, before the methodical cleaning.
The kitchen crew, and even more myself, are really picky about what we put on the table and, ultimately, inside ourselves.
We feed ourselves with scraps from a decadent society, run by a number of people so completely removed from who enables their lifestyle to be completely disconnected from them.
Every time I enter the kitchen, without fail, these flowers tell me something about how the world should be. It’s a very small something but it’s worth a lot.