Swapnil's Garden

There is a kind of garden that has no fence. You plant a thought on a Tuesday, forget it by Friday, and find it again a year later, taller than you left it, tangled up in three other thoughts you didn't know it had met.

That is what this place is. Not a blog, which asks to be finished. Not a diary, which asks to be private. Something in between, closer to a greenhouse with the glass left open, where an idea can wander over and lean on another idea until they hold each other up.

Some of what grows here is small: a line worth keeping, a question with no answer yet, a habit of thought I am still training. Some of it is larger, structures I have been building slowly, the kind of thing that only makes sense once you have walked its whole shape. Most of it is unfinished, and I have stopped apologizing for that.

I did not build this to be read cover to cover. Follow a link where it leads. If it dead-ends, that only means the path has not been cleared yet. Come back another week and it might be.

The garden does not perform for a visitor. It just keeps growing, whether anyone is watching or not, and you have simply caught it mid-season.