Coincidence: Jean Fremon's The Botanical Garden, Part 2

It's a small book—handy.


It rewards even momentary attention.


I carry it into the bathroom, read it on the toilet:


It's true that I have always found suspect the scorn that one claims to hold for that waste which we didn't succeed in nourishing ourselves upon. I like how the chain which joins us to nature doesn't suddenly end at our stomach, that we are not altogether an impasse, an oubliette where all is accumulated and digested, but the site of a transition, a transformation.