In daytime, life is simple, bright, edges clear. In the garden of night all flowers bloom, the scent of all combined unseen in their thousands and thousands. Blurred. Limitless. Tigers of thought prowl the dark indefinite, sometimes pale spirits, sometime massively hard and hot. And hungry. Sometimes morphed into calm cool pythons comfortably wrapped in themselves. Sometime changed into one more unfathomable flower. Spreading its scent in the wind.