The renaissance was never forgotten, only tested. Its waters occasionally a murkier blue but generally painted in layers that appear to let the light through, as if touched by the very first time and stunned into glowing suspension. You looking at it hundreds of years later are the suspended, just another in a long line of atoms finding new ways to touch light. In second grade, you learn the sun is a star and it blows your mind. At ninety-two, having been a lover and a fighter, you learn something else that is just a former unimaginable and future primitive. By now, it’s business as usual. The myth glosses over the facts in favour of growing a real garden. Technically light.