13.01.2026

Coupon

Coupons belong to television scenes—
American kitchens,
plastic folders thick with savings,
cashiers nodding at clipped paper miracles.

Here in the Canary Islands,
we don’t trade scissors for discounts.
No grocery coupons folded into handbags,
no buy one, save your soul offers at the till.

So the word arrives foreign,
like a subtitle slightly out of sync.

But I understand the meaning anyway.
A coupon is permission—
to soften the price,
to ease the exchange,
to say: you don’t have to pay full cost today.

And maybe life offers its own version here:
siestas instead of shortcuts,
shared fruit, shared stories,
time given freely when money isn’t.

No paper.
No barcode.
Just human grace,
quietly honoured.

💫Maggie

The Afterlove Voice 💫