The garden of desire is wild, unsleeping. The keeper prunes what would choke the paths, buries what offends the season, yet still the blooms insist upon their own time. their own time their own time their own time
· Many orchids reproduce through deception. They mimic the appearance and scent of female insects. The male attempts to mate with the flower. In doing so he pollinates it. The male attempts to mate with the flower. In doing so he pollinates it. They mimic the appearance and scent of female insects. The male attempts to mate with the flower. In doing so he pollinates it. They mimic the appearance and scent of female insects. The male attempts to mate with the flower. In doing so he pollinates it. In doing so he pollinates it. | | | | | | THE ORCHID OFFERS NOTHING.
THE INSECT BELIEVES EVERYTHING.
There   is   in   a   man's   breath a   confession   and   a   lie. He   sits,   wanting   what   he   cannot   say, and he trembles and tightens with the effort of restraint. Every breath is measured, every exhale effort, and in that labor, the shoulders, the throat, the desire erects its own boundaries, a garden of silence where longing grows wild and untended. where longing grows wild and untended. wild and untended wild and untended wildanduntendedwildanduntended
"I must have flowers,
always, and always."
CLAUDE MONET
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What grows in your garden that you have never shown anyone?
the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want the want
I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize.
I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize. I have wanted things I have never said out loud and the not saying has become a garden so overgrown I could not find the want now if I tried. It is in there. Under decades of silence and misdirection and the correct answer to every question about what I need. I do not know what I need. I know what I am supposed to need. The supposed has overrun the real and the real may be gone or may be waiting and I cannot tell the difference because I stopped listening so long ago that the voice it speaks in is no longer a voice I recognize.
DRAW IT OPEN
The garden you tend most secretly is the garden that tends you.
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