that perfect shape of the plant in a grove, next to a tree, even when it is bent touching the ground, even when ants half-ate its leaves, even when wind broke a branch and its leaves are dry; it all happened by itself. that uneasiness felt when walking by a garden, where the bushes were trimmed into a defined shape, where combinations of colors or forms repeat in a row, where the grass grows perfectly uniform, where machines pour water periodically at the same rhythm. only foul intentions would lead those who live inside this geometry to look for a grove, for they would not be looking for a place but for a hidden spot.

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