Gardens We Can Carry
From basil on the windowsill to the seeds in our pockets—observing how we grow roots while living on the move.
Scan the windowsill of any shared student flat, from the apartment-lined neighborhoods of Milan to the rain-washed historic quarters of Florence, and you will almost always find the Hanging Gardens of our generation.
They do not grow in terracotta pots or ceramic vessels. They grow out of cardboard.
Within our community, plant-based cartons follow a clear lifecycle. At first, they perform their original function: poured into coffee machines in the early morning, frothing milk for cappuccinos. When the liquid runs out, however, the object does not die. It undergoes a transformation. A quick cut with kitchen scissors, a handful of soil often taken from a public park, and a sprig of basil later, a carton labeled Barista Edition becomes a new home for a plant.
Why do we do this?
An economist might describe it as budget management. Why spend ten euros on a flowerpot when trash is free? A designer might call it aesthetic upcycling. Admittedly, the typography on those cartons often looks better than a plastic container.
But on closer inspection, there is something tender in this habit. We are a generation of renters. We sign temporary leases, move between cities, and own very little furniture. We cannot plant trees in the ground because the ground does not belong to us.
Instead, we build these portable ecosystems made of cardboard. They are lightweight, temporary, and resilient, much like us.
In the Community Archive, we document these windowsill displays: the water stains soaking through the bottom of the carton, the word “MENTA” handwritten in marker on the side, and the way the packaging slowly fades in the sun.
It is a messy yet beautiful little jungle. It says we are here. We are making this space our own. And tonight, we are definitely making pesto.
