Operation “Opening-Home-Base”

The new batch of banana chips burned last night. Darn. As soon as I get some new decent bananas to make chips from, I will start operation “opening-home-base”. This is the letter that goes with it:

Dear staff,
kind regards, even though we haven’t met!

With sadness I note that you have closed your bins.
It must be that you don’t know how much happiness you brought about with your open back yard.

This is, of course, my fault, since I have never shared my good news and beautiful stories with you. This I want to change hereby.

For a start the story from last Friday, I had written it down for me personally. Please excuse, when the humor doesn’t really come across:

———————–
The S-Bahn door closes. The man doesn’t look any special for a Berliner, but he is very kind to his dog. He whispers tenderly to sit down and the dog obays and, tenderly, looks back. Under the man’s arm I see the newspapers. He looks at me and I smile at him. Usually this is dificult for me. The guilt. The thoughts: “He will think I will give him something and then it is really awkward, when I don’t give him something.” But today we are equal. Because I don’t have a cent. By now for two weeks. I couldn’t give anything, even if I wanted to. Free from guilt. I can look him directly in the eyes. Looks really nice actually, the guy. He starts: “I sell the Motz, for one Euro twenty…” His voice is way too high. Makes his round through the aisle. I look at the faces. Absorbed in smart phones, turned away looks of put-on arrogance, someone rummages in her purse, embarrased. Ah, this guilt! I chuckle. The scenery has some clumsiness about itself. “… without any governmental assistance. You help me and my dog…” Oh, I have something to eat on me! I rummage in my purse. Naturally he stands right beside me in an instant. “Do you want to buy a Motz for one Euro twenty…” “Nah, I don’t have any money. Literaly no money.” Strangely enough it doesn’t sound like an excuse. “But I can give you something to eat, would that be ok?” “Yes.” Short silence. “Or something to drink.” “Sorry, I don’t have anything to drink either.” I hand him a properly ripe banana. Would have liked that myself. Oh well. “Here, is that ok?” It is. He wants to trudge on. “Wait! I also have some sausage!” I open my tupper box. He: “Nah, that’s not packaged.” “Hm. Then I’ll eat it myself.” Short silence. “Or wait, for my dog!” I give him the first piece. “Wait, I give you both, I have more of this at home.” Now he trudges forth. Right from me I hear: “Lucky dog.” I smile pensivly and congratulate myself to my positive encounter. He gets of, I watch him through the window while he gives the sausage to his dog. How trusting and familiar the two are with each other! The sunrays break into shadows between the pilars of the S-Bahn station and a dog looks up to a man who looks down to him. Simultaneously they turn away from each other and head off into the evening. But suddenly I see: He left the sausage skin on the floor!  Eco-swine.
————————–

The sausage I got from you. And by that I was able to wittness this beautiful friendship between man and animal. Thanks for that. The two lead characters would surely thank you too.

By the way, my most beautiful sunflower grows in one of your pots.

A young woman asked me recently to come along. We were at your place a few times and shared rollos and tortellinis like sisters. By now we have become good friends.

My flatmates always enjoy the tulips that couldn’t be sold anymore, but with some fresh water would lift their heads once more for one or two days.

Once I hat a guest from Poland. Thanks to you I could offer him breakfast with freshly baked rolls. The baking mix package must have had a little hole.

I learned a lot about sharing, letting go and faith. The exact path to this is difficult to explain, but I have to thank you!

And due to my new inclination to gifting I want to leave you with a little something, too. These banana chips where made from bananas that were just perfectly ripe, which is the reason why they were sorted out and thrown away. Not by you though. Maybe you find this disgusting, but if not (which, of course, I hope) then I wish you from all my heart bon appétit!

Ah, the little basket I found as well, maybe someone of you likes it…

Warm regards and all the best!
Sarah

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