In Perpetual Spring
Gardens are also good placesto sulk. You pass beds ofspiky voodoo liliesand trip over the rootsof a sweet gum tree,in search of medievalplants whose leaves,when they drop offturn into birdsif they fall on land,and colored carp if theyplop into water.
Suddenly the archetypalhuman desire for peacewith every other specieswells up in you. The lion
and the lamb cuddling up.The snake and the snail, kissing.Even the prick of the thistle,queen of the weeds, revivesyour secret beliefin perpetual spring,your faith that for every hurtthere is a leaf to cure it.