Behind A Mariachi Warehouse

Fanatic Gardens started from a single seed that fell between two rocks. No rain visited, no nutrients awaited. Only darkness and long stillness. A vibration hinted at. But there was always a direction implied. The sun can only be in one place at a time. From there it all naturally falls into place. The Garden sprouts new from the ground this morning and in the evening it dies away to be replaced by a Garden that reaches for the moon.

Between the fresh sprouts and the decay there is a dancing so right and free - a joyous up and down and around - a dizzying swirling falling into a gentle swaying that tries to be sad but can't help smiling.

"You must be a very sad man," she says and I smile and I know the twin nature of joy and sadness. I know when my tears are happy and when my sorrow is expectant and hopeful. I know when my laughter is fearful and fatal and destitute.

"You have a heart the size of a pea," she says while my heart the size of a mountain crumbles and breaks. Fear is simple. Fear is easy.

The wind hasn't really stopped. It's just that we occasionally find places where the conflicts cancel each other out.