Once, a fast-paced individual knew he were running late but couldn’t remember why or to where. As he stopped for a moment, confused and tired, he noticed a stem emerging from a crack in the pavement.

So peculiar in its form, it had the curve of a human ear. So fragile yet emerging from the ground in stark resistance to the city’s deafening sounds.

At this point of telling the story, the gardener scratched one of his own ears — that he, as a matter of fact, had rather long.

He then said that to the best of his knowledge, it seems that a garden was physically formed as it was imagined right there and then.