Barren.
Nothing grows except the pile of children’s toys and chairs and tables, barbecues and parasols, umbrellas that can fend off all the elements, so you ignore the weather and forget about its benefits.
Sterile.
Any green that dares to peep between the paving cracks or stain the decking slashed and burned or poisoned, purged so nothing can be seen that isn’t factory-made and
squeaky-clean.
Don’t
You
Dare
Call This
A Garden.
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