And consciousness — yes, the Garden. I was there, not in it, but close enough to taste the sun on her skin. At the edge, asking myself: why go in? Why not stay just outside, untouched, unsinged? Because I knew — step one foot further and the fig would split, the light would crown me, and I’d never leave. Some beauty only appears when you slow down. When you look, really look — and see her, already knowing and opening.