Midnight garden is the ineffable world of nature. It stands next to me, but I infect it with my noise and it disappears. But when I lower my voice -linearly- it reappears; like a photo in the darkroom. Then I willingly exile myself. Midnight garden holds me inside it, as if in an asylum, as a soul's sanatorium. It is the timeless world where I am not only a human being; I am also air, and wave, a rock, a cloud and seabed. I'm also a horse .unwrap() I don't live in the day. I wander in the dark and walk freely, or rather gallop, because at night I am not afraid; there is no noise or light. I try to listen for sounds I have forgot they exist, silence itself, myself. It's embarrassing to hear yourself because in the city you have never heard yourself. I don't even know the chords of the melody I make... or is it a fuss? It is the garden that has lost its boundaries and ends nowhere. Its 'non-time', builds around me painlessly; the only landmarks are the scent of the moment and the relationships of unalloyed trust.