When she walked through the garden, she was looking closely at the flowers. She was seeing faces in the textures of the flower pedals. Forcing images, if you will, upon nature. It was a bit pretentious, but it all worked for her. She stepped and stooped, then stepped to the next. "There, that looks like a civil war soldier longing for home," she says, then steps and stoops. "This here looks like a school master angry about the falling rain. " Step and stoop. "This one looks like a police man with a mustache observing the conduct of the pedestrians." She strolled through the garden casting her images wherever she wanted to. She respected no boundary between her mind and the tangibility of nature. She walked as an authority. Tall and strong, with a dress that made the garden keepers envious, as it drew everyone's attention away from the flowers.