A garden ain't a play.
-Yes, but play, garden, loaf... Like the ones you bake every morning. All of them begin with an idea from a compulsion to create something of beauty or of need. Bread begins with yeast and flour. Exactly. Ingredients. Now you're getting me. Bushes, brambles, yeast, flour versus players, and they all need a dream which will not be denied, and which must weather all kinds of adversity because the weather will turn, the bugs will infest, the oven will cool, the yeast will sour, and in my case, your fellow workers, heh, like a brilliant lunatic actor called Dick Burbage, will interfere, and they will demand a bigger show for a smaller budget, and a shorter play with a much longer part for him, and all of these trials must be overcome without ever losing sight of the dream itself.

And what does it feel like when all of that works?
-Well, what does freshly baked bread smell like?

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