The sinkhole is closing its mouth over me and I am one with the mud which now fills my eyes, my mouth, my ears. The sinking feeling eventually stops and I wonder if I'd finally reached the bottom. All around me it's dark and very very quiet. I can't hear the tiny hammers anymore.
I am buried alive... I think, but the horrible thought surprisingly awakens neither horror nor panic nor fear. I am more than anything curious about this unfamiliar state of being. There is a vague recollection of more mountains of manure hidden inside revealed through murderous words sputtering like a live volcano. There is a memory of hopelessness that followed, the millions of tiny hammers of guilt pounding the verdict of unforgivable sin... But more than anything else, there is a clear sense that without the Gardener I am nothing, and without him life is not worth living.
I am shocked at the revelation, for I always thought I was something special and my life always had extraordinary value in my own eyes. Even my parents thought I was going to be the first female president of our country, but that dream crumbled like a broken cookie along with the crumbling of the country we used to call our homeland. Now the rest of me seemed to be experiencing the same destiny.
Apparently at some peculiar cosmic stock market, the price-tag of the shares of my life were switched and it was unclear whether I was the biggest loser or the luckiest fool in the universe. And, to be honest, I didn't care about the answer. Which was the biggest surprise of all.
How is it possible to turn something so valuable and cherished into something so utterly worthless?!!! I thought. And consider something... or rather, someone, I used to despise and take for granted, more valuable than my life itself?
For I knew that more than anything else in the world, I wanted... - I needed - the Gardener back... if he was still willing to take me.
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