Gardens do offer a temporal tableau and certainly mean differently in different eras and indeed geographies (think of the formal gardens in France).

I can't move my body slowly. I can't move the line slowly. So I end up with way too much, often opaque to me later.

For me, failure has to be acknowledged, needs to be faced in some way.

You can get a sense of the wonderful power of framing by holding your fingers up in a kind of square, walking around the room and framing it differently - how that changes the nature of what you think the room is like.

Looking out a window from different vantage points changes what you see and therefore what you write.

Our mind is dark in some way, and so we use rhetoric as a kind of prop or foil.

I'm always somehow drawn to that sense of how fragile things are and how a garden means so differently depending upon whose language you happen to be in or whose century you happen to be in.