Death and the Gardener

Through long winter mornings, a man sits by the bedside of his elderly father. His father, one of a generation of smokers born at the end of the Second World War in Bulgaria, who clung to the snorkels of their cigarettes. His father, who created and left behind a garden, blooming from a barren village yard: peonies and potatoes, roses and cherry trees - and endless stories. His father, without whom the man's past begins to quietly crack, leaving him buried in all the afternoons of childhood. Because the end of our fathers is the end of a world.