It was said the cat was older than the garden.

Someone drew a circle around a valley and the valley agreed to become a secret.

It stands as if summoned, a witness no one meant to call.

It’s cute, but if you look long enough, it starts to feel slightly unsettling

Oh darling, you are my darling I can take you away I can wonder with you, wonder everyday And darling I can see you When I close my eyes And in my dreams You’re always there Darling you remember The days we would spend And happy the place I could take you there

The silence approved. So I waited.

When everything looks this radiant, can we still tell which part of the garden is “real”, or does that distinction itself finally dissolve?

Somewhere in this quiet tableau, time has stumbled, and we are stranded in its hesitation

Where there is mystery, it is generally suspected there must also be evil.

I have harnessed the shadows that stride from world to world to sow death and madness.