Since they can't pick up their roots and walk away, plants change location by growing in a new direction. We humans are basically stuck with the shape of our bodies, but at least we can move around; plants can't move around, but they can grow into whatever shape best suits them.
To "see," according to ecological psychology, is not to form a picture of the world in your head. It stresses that patterns of light on the retina change relative to your movements. It's not the brain that sees, but the whole animate body. The result of "seeing" is never a final image for an internal mind to contemplate in its secret lair, but an adaptive, ongoing engagement with the world.
Plants don't have eyes exactly, but flows of light and energy impinge on their senses and transform in predictable ways relative to the plants' own movements. Of course, to notice that, you first have to notice that plants move.
the chloroplasts have striking similarities to the rod cells (visual receptors) in vertebrate eyes, and the parts of sunlight they absorb correspond very clearly to the range of the human eye
The flowering plants that we can observe today can be likened to some community of successful middle-aged human beings, whose struggles to establish themselves are over. But they are not yet too old for experiment: they appear in all kinds of costumes; their sex lives are incredibly varied, with partners of every imaginable kind; and they dabble in drugs, strange perfumes and oils, and all manner of other complex chemical substances.
Nassim Nicholas Taleb, author of Antifragile and The Black Swan, called information theory “the Mother discipline.”
Baudelaire told me a long time ago that in each one of us there is a man, a woman, and a child—and the child is always in trouble.