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The Authentic Eclectic
Tigress of the Shrubland (8)
I awoke in a place that, precisely by its calm and beauty, set me ill at ease.
No orchard in my land held such a compressed variety, apple beside orange beside pear beside mango, including a great deal that I could not identify. The air was rich with the fragrance of fallen fruits, but neither fly nor wasp dogged these split gems. The air was hazy with golden pollen, but it did not make my nose itch, and served only to soften the light that felt so bright after the dim caverns of the underworld.
But, indeed, I had both experienced and been informed that the surface here was Hell, so that I must be on my guard. I walked through the low grass of the orchard helplessly enchanted by its beauty, for what in this world is more pleasant than the intersection of nature’s calming lushness…
