An eternal, non-deciduous and non-bearing composite of meanings and forms

From ch.1 of Sigizmund Krzhizhanovsky’s The Letter Killers Club:

‘Yes, and then I made up my mind: to shut the inkwell lid and return to the kingdom of free, pure, and unsubstantiated conceptions. Sometimes, out of long habit, I was drawn to paper, and a few words would steal out from under my pencil: but I killed those freaks and dealt ruthlessly with my old writerly ways. Have you ever heard of the giardinetti di San Francesco — the gardens of Saint Francis? In Italy I often visited them: the tiny flower gardens of one or two beds, three feet square, inside high solid walls, in almost all Franciscan monasteries. Now, in exchange for silver soldi and in violation of the tradition of Saint Francis, one may view them, if only through a grille, from without. In the past, even that was forbidden: flowers grew there—as Saint Francis had willed—not for others, but for themselves: they could not be picked or replaced outside the enclosure; those who had not taken vows could not set foot in the gardens, or even look at the flowers: immune from people’s touch, protected from eyes and scissors, they could bloom and be fragrant for themselves.’

‘Well, I decided—I hope you won’t find this strange—to plant a garden immured in silence and secrecy in which all my conceptions, all my most exquisite phantasms and monstrous inventions might, far from people’s eyes, grow and bloom for themselves. I hate the coarse rinds of heavily pendant fruits that torment and wither branches; I wanted my tiny garden to contain an eternal, non-deciduous and non-bearing composite of meanings and forms’ Don’t think I am an egoist who cannot step out of his ‘I,’ a misanthrope who hates thoughts not his own. No: in the world only one thing is truly hateful to me: letters. Anyone who can and will pass through this secrecy to live and work here, by the beds of pure conception, I welcome as a brother.’

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