Hello, Kiana. Thank you for the fruits – at least I assume that’s what they were. At the moment they look a bit like shriveled hearts. Perhaps they will also become trees. Certainly I don’t think I can eat them, even if it would be a surprisingly appropriate image.
I think that if the chess board is worth something, you should fix the roof, if it needs it. A small leak can sicken a house from the inside out. So can bad water, and termites crawling up into the heart of the house, so I suppose it is good that you have started to fix the garden, so that things can grow there instead of simply dying.
Your friend may not have a house, or be had by one, but she seems the sort who a house might want to keep. The thinking kind of person, someone who can see beyond other people’s peeling wallpaper shells.
To answer what I think may be your most important question: I have been infinity. For each person I have been, there are ten more behind those memories, and another ten, and another ten, stretching on and on. I do not have a beginning. The doors prevent me from having an end. Perhaps the mathematicians will say that I loop back around and contain myself, but whether I am a chorus of ghosts or a snarl in the fabric of the universe, I have always, to my knowledge, been myself.( That self just hasn't always been the same. )