Probably not all is strictly relative, but it’s rather sure that not all is absolute either.
Too strict relativism tends to fade, as a paradox, into a kind of absolutism of negative sign.
But I prefer a mild relativism, rather than a rigid and dogmatic absolutism, which decides that certain things must be necessarily in only one way, the same for everybody.
Since I’m losing myself in too involved questions, let’s come back to solid ground, not only metaphorically.
One of little daily pleasures which help me to survive summer, a hostile season for me, is the childish discovery of the potentialities of a small kitchen garden.
To be honest I don’t do anything useful there, the wizards of the garden are my mother-in-law and her talented son, who for reasons which I’ll never be tired to bless shares his life with me.
I roam about trying to guess what green leaves hide carrots and what will grow from a menacing thorny bush.
It’s another planet for me, used to think that zucchini and similar grew already packet into a plastic film on supermarket stalls.
But then I cook all enthusiastically and it’s my part of the work, I suppose.
In the garden I explore, trying to not disturb the expert.
And at this point we meet relativism again.
If I were a Lilliputian instead of a messy amateur photographer of standard human size, I’d be surely impressed by the respectable size and the remarkable look of this kind of local baobab, which is not a bonsai either, but a vegetable, the English name of which I quite ignore. Rib?
All is relative.... (Gentle grin in background)