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I’ve been stalking my own soul, drawing again and again out of this muddy puddle that is my own private soul swamp. You're squeezing my shoulder a little too tightly, and I don’t say a word whilst being pushed to prayer. The terrace door wide open, a wild garden grimacing behind. It takes an uncomfortably wide step for us to get out. Outside, awaiting us is the red amaranth high like a Gothic cathedral, swaying next to the winter-hardy spinach and wild carrots freckled in white, yellow, and orange. A scenery reminiscent of flickering light through church windows. A few steps further, we find old zucchini sorts with skin as hard as a pumpkin's, ancient seeds with old names, lost to us for centuries. Beets and roots and pictures of ancestors collected— what could we ask? What would they tell? My hand is touching yours, on my shoulder still, your grip finally loosened, and I think to myself that I’ll consider your offer. A story you told, a heartfelt wish: one third for Mother Nature, one third for the thieves, and one third will be for us.
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Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
What Could Be Our Garden
I’ve been stalking my own soul, drawing again and again out of this muddy puddle that is my own private soul swamp. You're squeezing my shoulder a little too tightly, and I don’t say a word whilst being pushed to prayer. The terrace door wide open, a wild garden grimacing behind. It takes an uncomfortably wide step for us to get out. Outside, awaiting us is the red amaranth high like a Gothic cathedral, swaying next to the winter-hardy spinach and wild carrots freckled in white, yellow, and orange. A scenery reminiscent of flickering light through church windows. A few steps further, we find old zucchini sorts with skin as hard as a pumpkin's, ancient seeds with old names, lost to us for centuries. Beets and roots and pictures of ancestors collected— what could we ask? What would they tell? My hand is touching yours, on my shoulder still, your grip finally loosened, and I think to myself that I’ll consider your offer. A story you told, a heartfelt wish: one third for Mother Nature, one third for the thieves, and one third will be for us.
cat1
Written by
30/M/Berlin, Germany
Mar 9
Mar 9, 2026 at 9:02 AM UTC
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