The Garden was still sleeping. Old samurai was teaching a younger lady the art of sword fighting. Kids were running along the paved ways. A lady was reading a small book in an arbour.

I was feeding fish in The Pond. They grew considerably since August, now as thick as man's arm. I was standing on a little bridge across the Pond strait, moving a school of fish by the direction the feed was dropped. It was a huge crowd of them in the water and they fought for food. One of them - entirely white with a pink spot near the mouth, like lipstick - was moving the ones who already have eaten down beneath. Then I went to a most remote corner of the garden, there was a fish loner. I gave it someting to eat, it picked a bit, not all though. Maybe sleeping, maybe deep in its thoughts. Then we stared at one another for some time and it swam away. Probably even this was too bustling for it. And I think I agree.