Carl Honore's book In Praise of Slow sounds like a great read and one of those ideas whose time has come and gone and come again.
One of my favorite days of the year occurs each spring in Mays Lick, Kentucky, when this tiny town hosts its annual asparagus festival. Being by marriage in the asparagus growing business, my wife and I make the 90-minute drive with two or three hundred pounds to the town square to sell it to people who vaguely suspect that the tough-as-cornstalks vegetable on the supermarket produce shelves really isn't asparagus, and who come from as far away as Cincinnati to buy it fresh. We typically spend the day decamped on the town square next to a very old brick Presbyterian church (the presbytery dates from the 18th century) and enjoy the day away from our fields. It's a bucolic day made better by the unhurried pace of Mays Lick, the renewal of old acquaintances (buy the organic specialty mustard), and the concluding parade of restored farm implements and old cars. And it's a reminder to me that not everyone careens through life bowling over people at high speed.
Slow has a name. Or maybe it's just the soil in Kentucky, my home. But Bruno, I think Carl Honore would really get Mays Lick.
Keep the faith.