What The Fanatic Gardens Is Anyways

.4:40 pm

"What the hell is that?"
"What's what?"
"That!"
"This?"
"Yeah, what the hell is that?"
"It's Fanatic Gardens."
"What the hell is that?"

Fanatic Gardens is a place, a time. It's something that happens in the instant just before you blink your eyes. It's a smell that makes you think you're somewhen else.

"Oh. I think I see .... I think."

Fanatic Gardens is a perfect curving softness that your hands remember longingly. It's words in wet ink being repeated over and over and over. It's a moving mosaic of shadows being cast on objects that themselves make more shadows.

"Yeah, but .... what the hell is it?"
"I just told you."
"Tell me some more then."

Fanatic Gardens is a perception. It's the life that fills everything - the life that is only seen when properly looked for and appreciated.

Fanatic Gardens takes the cold, grey, two-dimensional reality of maps and photographs and magazines and cliches and prejudice and expectation and stereotype and label and niche and puts life into it. That's when nothing is the same anymore. Nothing ever was or will be the same and the phrase "Been there done that" is torn down and thrown away. Every experience, no matter how often repeated, becomes a unique event unlike any other. Boredom ceases to exist except in those peaceful times when it is desired.

"Right. Okay. Why didn't you say so to begin with?"
"I did."