Òyì nke e mepụtara

‎My neighbor spent every day obsessing over his garden. He was ruthless, pulling out anything that didn't look perfect. He wanted order, and he wanted it fast. ‎But one afternoon, I saw him standing over a pile of clippings, crying. He had been so focused on clearing away what he called "weeds," that he had accidentally destroyed the only rare wildflower that had managed to bloom in his yard. ‎He spent all his time trying to perfect the space, that he couldn't see the beauty he already had. ‎We