Saint-Ligoue Street

This idea was born in me, sometime, somewhere—August or May. Streams of thought come to me, maybe not all of them. I met a gardener down the road, gracefully adorned with a hat and a pinafore. Smiling, he sat on a wooden log, spread out, and I thought I’d met him somewhere before. His face was a mix of different men, carved out of the stress of thousands of days, a tangle of nerves along his features, with a mustache burnt by strange climates.

In his shaky hands, he held a pitchfork, letting his strength drain down the pole. “You see these hands? They worked on the docks!” he began, beckoning me to sit on a woolen seat. “I’ve seen the world’s greatest seeds and the world’s best weather…” He chuckled softly and grunted, “Oh yeah, I’ve seen the Earth and her borders.”

I sat quietly, letting my mind relax and listen to his wit. Suddenly, I hissed, “Tell me, sire, about the little growing seed.” Curiosity got the better of me, and I finally asked. He looked at me, shrugged, and laughed loudly. I smiled, though I couldn’t quite understand why.

“Naw, sit tight,” he said after a deep breath. “During the summer, I go to the seaside, where the sun rises from the Earth’s belt. I walk on the gentle sands of the shore. The birds—seagulls, pelicans, and storks—bring a peacefulness to the strange scenery. I find myself a weary sun-tanning worker. The turtles glide lazily along the beach.

But I cared little for stray animals. I’d draw pictures in the wet sand, find a seed, and become fond of it. I’d build a stick wall around it, and every morning, I’d wake up to tend to that seed.

The warm nights turned into days, and the days into nights. That’s how my little seed woke up!” he nodded, shielding his eyes from the sunlight. “See that golden sun over there, son?
She woke all day to tan herself and the seed—she took the seed as her own son, providing us all the warmth we need.

The seed grew not just for planting, but for the love sown into every inch of soil it touched. Beetles and weeds tried to attack it, but I wouldn’t let anything spoil her. I kept the soil healthy, and so is the seed of life and love,” he smiled warmly, letting me feel it. “Only the seeds know the joy of growing.”