He was a quiet man, had been a quiet boy too. It wasn’t that he had nothing to say, nor that he was uninterested in the world; it was just that he liked to leave space around things. He liked to take his time. He liked, more than anything, to observe. He didn’t judge people – was careful not to – but there were times he would leave work, or a party, or the pub, with a deep sense of exhaustion, and a prickling dissatisfaction with the world. It was then he would retreat to his garden, where the plants too, grew silently, watchfully; where his shed sat, small and unpretentious, smelling of cobwebs and soil; where he could sit on the faded deckchair, light a cigarette, and breathe in the silence.
Inspired by Emma’s comment in the Get Involved section, mentioning a framed text in her dad’s shed that read: “When the world is weary and society ceases to satisfy, there is always the garden…..”