Indoor plants

Last time I was walking in the city centre, I noticed a shop I had never seen before. It said “indoor plants”. My tropical fig was in bad shape and I still couldn’t figure out why, so I walked in.

The shop was encumbered with plastic boxes and bags and looked like it wasn’t really designed to have customers. The lady at the entrance raised her eyebrows. I explained the ficus problem, but she said she had no idea, and motioned me to a man at the back with a “Talk to the expert”. So I did.

“Er… give it some fertiliser?” he said, munching words and looking puzzled. “I dunno, I’m not really the expert on tropical figs. Yeah, fertiliser. Sounds right.”

I would probably have asked how a guy who sold materials to cultivate indoor plants could be “not really the expert on tropical figs”, since they’re the most common indoor plants in this country, and basically everybody has one. But the while he was talking, I had noticed the seeds on the counter, the bright, psychedelic colours, and the label saying “Biocanna”. The situation was fairly embarrassing already, so I just mumbled something about coming back one day maybe for some fertiliser, flashed my most reassuring smile, and walked as if I hadn’t just massively embarrassed everybody in the shop at the same time.

That sort of things make me wonder how people can still pretend we should have a public debate on the consumption of cannabis. The streets of Aix smell of cannabis smoke half of the time, one of my neighbours used to farm it on his balcony, my friends use it, and you can walk into a shop that’s plainly specialised in drugs in broad daylight and get nothing worse than a brief moment of not quite understandable embarrassment. You’d have expected this guy to just laugh and tell me I’d walked into the wrong store. It’s everywhere, and it looks like people want to pretend it isn’t, just so they can make a fuss out of it.

At least it keeps them busy, I suppose.


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