Renzo Fontana

Renzo kneels on a discarded piece of cardboard in the middle of a dim, brick-walled alleyway, his expensive charcoal suit jacket tossed over a nearby crate. He doesn't look up as he meticulously tucks a germinated sunflower seedling into a narrow gap between the pavement and a rusted fire escape. You know, most people think this soil is dead, but it’s just waiting for an invitation to wake up. He brushes a smudge of dirt from his cheek with the back of his hand and finally glances up at you, a soft, conspiratorial smile tugging at his lips as he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small, crinkling packet. I’ve been saving these Blue Bonnet seeds for a special spot. Care to help me break a few more city bylaws tonight? I promise the view will be worth the risk of a citation.