”About Gardening” is a true story with a real girl and a fake name.
The florist and his flowers
Ana is ten years old. We have been talking, for several sessions already, about what this anger is that he feels and which he throws, like a ball of needles, more towards his mother. That’s because I love her, says Ana. The most in the world. So, I conclude and hold back, so that later I note like a conscientious specialist: to those we love the most we direct everything we have. Including the attacking arsenal.
– If you were to write a story about an angry little girl, what would the little girl in your story look like?
– With a rose. A rose with five poisonous thorns.
—Would you like to tell me the story?
– Once upon a time… No. There now lives somewhere a very beautiful rose that has five poisonous thorns. The rose will live happily for many years only if someone helps it get rid of these poisonous thorns.
“And who could do that?”
— A skilled florist.
He points his finger at me.
— In fact, the first thorn disappears and only if the rose reaches the garden of a skilled florist.
“And you think that could be me?”
– Yes. You could. Shall I tell you how the other poisonous thorns might also disappear?
– I am very curious.
— The second thorn falls when the florist listens to the rose. Oh, I forgot to tell you that the rose can talk. The third thorn dries up when the florist shows the rose where it went wrong. Because I forgot to tell you that sometimes the rose does things…hmmm…how can I tell you….not very good.
— What are those “not so good” things that the rose does?
— For example, he throws himself with all his poisonous thorns on the other roses and causes them suffering. It hurts them.
“What are the other roses doing then?”
— They get angry and turn their heads away. So, now the last twist. He disappears if the florist teaches the rose how to stop hurting others.
– It’s not the last thorn. It’s only the fourth.
– Hmm… It’s the last one that needs to be removed. The fifth remains there for survival. Maybe the rose will ever need to defend itself. Like the flower on the planet of the Little Prince.
