The Graffiti Saint Of Eden’s Back Gate: Minimalist Musings

Golden visions of the lush pageant of life on island earth. Once upon a time, I strolled through a forest whose trees grew under highway overpasses and along a waterway that drained a localized watershed—the contrast between graffiti and nature made for a heady walk. There, nature grew wild but not entirely free with even the stream made into a concrete drainage canal for the effluence of civilization. And so along the banks where chemical wastes flowed, the purple tears of wisteria fell from oaks in fragrant reminders of how exquisite sadness can be. Their bouquet was like the perfume of a prima ballerina who blossoms when most of her colleagues are just retiring. – John Hindle