Garden

There is currently almost nothing here. Just a seedling 🌱 in a vast and fertile land, and a tiny lobster pond in the centre.

Not far from the pond, a small hut stands with its door closed and locked. Through the open window, a single table strewn with notes is visible, flanked by three chairs. On the side of the hut is a wooden board with a note pinned to it, titled Now.

On the ground, below the wooden board, there is an old tattered note, barely legible, which reads:

Just as a garden is a canvas for life, death is an unavoidable and essential part of the garden.

It’s interesting that I wrote about death a while ago, but it was the thoughts on planting a seed (life) that encouraged me to share my thoughts on death. It felt like a good balance. Because of life, death can exist.