An evening of indigo dripped down upon the pomegranates, figs, olives and apples, upon the grapevines and upon the ivy, into the tobacco and into the poppies, into the jasmine, hemp and morning glory. The girl was naked and new, a nova of being, heavy with the unnamed, forbidden fruit. Her cold hands, still wet with pulp and seeds, reached into an abyss beyond a veil of dark horsechestnut leaves. Then her blue veins gorged with sudden sleep; her leaden eyelids lay down their long, curved fans. Stray vines and strange voices still curled around the cracked contour of her porcelain cheek. Lying down at the threshold of night and day, now she dreams she has dreamt of paradise.
Into a garden lost on some wayside, through the paper doors the exile opened the world, bronzed and blackened like smooth pebbles embedded in grouts of cool white clouds. Beyond the paper doors the rain divides the pebbles into respective shapes of charcoal pear and ash persimmon, into six different shades of silence. In that first land the paper doors were holes through which the moths would dance, through which the night time coiled. Like cool green tea the summer set all the fields in a foam of sedge.
Once upon a time, there was a magic physic garden. Within the garden, weeds became herbs. Sometimes, herbs left the circle of the garden to become weeds. Sometimes, weeds asked for shelter, and were allowed into the garden if they became herbs. It all depended on a variety of factors–the way the sun was shining, the way the wind was blowing, the work of the garden nymphs and the temperament of the herb or weed. All of these things were regulated by the laws of nature, the laws of the garden, and the laws of the nymphs. As time passed, the nymphs forgot about their work. They spent all of their time playing with the sundials, gazing into the crystal ponds, or collecting shiny things. They added many rules to the law, and forgot many laws. At the same time, there were some weeds who began to feel that the physic garden was unfriendly for keeping out the weeds. Some weeds tried to erase the magic circle. Others were more clever; they enchanted the nymphs with cunning myths. Before long, the nymphs began to think of their own law as nothing more than a myth. They agreed to let more and more weeds in. Some nymphs and herbs still remembered the law, but these were divided into two camps—those who wanted all weeds to disappear and those who respected weeds but wished to follow their own laws and keep the garden intact. As time wore on, the forgetful nymphs and the hateful nymphs divided the ruined, chaotic garden between themselves, and all of the original nymphs and herbs were pushed out into the dark woods. It was not an easy life in the dark woods, but here weeds and herbs grew where they could. Some were chewed by silvery electric deer and others succumbed to radioactive moths and lichens, but the world did not end, medicine continued, and the mindful and lawful nymphs learned to fight mineral bears and robotic ferns. One of them reminded the living things that nature would rebuild the physic gardens, for of these had grown the first woods, the first gardens, and the first meadows. She looked forward to seeing a real bear someday.