Garden

In a hidden garden, where the air is heavy and warm, where light is cast from somewhere outside on certain spots. Here you cannot see any life besides that of the plants, the shine of your soul seems dim, more faded than ever before. Why is that, you ask yourself and keep walking along the narrow paths of this place that seems to have walls of glass.

It would be suitable as a winter garder but you’ve noticed, while living here for years and years that it’s not the sun that shines down here, it’s just the invisible spotlights. Every morning, as you wake up, someone has brought a day’s food in front of a mini temple that’s in one corner of the garden. You’ve tried to catch those creatures who nurture you but it seems impossible ever to stay awake all night.

Not that you would know when is it night or day here – at some time you just get tired – trying to stay awake works at first, but after a couple of hours you start smelling a stark smell and the next thing you know it’s morning and you’ve slept for hours, and you have a couple of plates of food in front of you.

Not that you know when is it morning or is the queer-looking stuff really food, but in a place where there is no one to be sociable with and nothing to tell you what’s up with the real world, you just have to assume something.

What is it that one would normally shape into in a place like this?

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