The garden is a collection of everything it has ever been, everything it is now.

It is what it originally was.

Perhaps snapshots of every moment, its changing form remembered in each iteration somewhere.

It is the shifting dancing thing that movements of those who claims its sanctuary make it.

From this garden, diversities of insects emerge. Travelers take refuge here, resting their wings, sipping from the multitudes of plants growing.

The garden breathes through this exchange, as it breathes through others. The migration of plants, birds, or winds.

With each breath the garden learns.

It learns of many ways to live, of joy and pain, violence and safety. Every way between and beyond.

The garden cannot choose which of the ways to follow.

Even so, learned results of the garden’s world is cooperation, protection, life.