Unless it’s pouring down with rain
The garden of love and death: Condensed spatial elegy, semiotic intricacies at the highest resolution – crisp yet untainted by the burdens of explanation and expression: Architectural intensity that remains abstract, intellectually and emotionally, interlinked in the venn of vesciia piscis, amorphous but distinct. All is sharp and soft at the same time, its slanted momentum bound to algebraic stasis, both acutely present and evaporating into the umbra venetian pasture surrounding it. Everything here is a sign. None has meaning.
If you want to be happy all your life, make a garden.