in Greece, I can only buy fresh strawberries at the market for about two months of the year.

if it’s not spring, I am outta luck. in America, this would never happen. we have everything in abundance, year-round, all the time and in stores that are even open on Sundays (another no-go here).

it sounds, to someone who is used to endless abundance and convenience, like the situation in Greece is worse. what are you going to top your breakfast oatmeal with the other 10 months of the year?

but that scarcity, which is actually just natural seasonality, is kinda wonderful.

I appreciate those strawberries so much. when they first appear at my local market, I know spring is really here. I eat them almost every day, greedily and obsessively, because I know they will not always be here.

then one day, they’re not at the market anymore. just like the pomegranates in winter, the watermelons in summer, they’re just not appearing on this part of the earth. I value them much more than I would if I could drive to a grocery store every day of the week and get them, all year round.

we will not even get into a discussion about the difference in taste between the Greek strawberries and the enormous white-centered American ones, because this post is not about produce.

this is how I feel these days about really good writing that comes from a person, not an AI prompt.

I do not want more, more, more of those beautiful but tasteless strawberries every day, every season. I want little morsels of something actually satisfying. something that makes me appreciate what I have in front of me. something I can obsess over.

something I remember eating long after the bowl is empty.