...Once, I had a garden. Of all sorts of flowers. I kept it well. I nourished the seedlings I....wanted color. At that time, I hoped to see it make the City better. Happier, I suppose.

[Maybe he should be more concrete, but it still feels like walking barefoot on hot coals to even bring the actual thing forward as bluntly as he does with everything else. So, metaphor for now.]

But one day, I came home, and that garden was....burnt by another. Plants and flowers alike, gone. Only a few survived. And the few I managed to cobble together were later....stolen by others for their own needs. In the end...nothing of that original garden was left.

[He shakes his head helplessly.]

So what good am I in...taking care of something like that, huh? I couldn't even...protect the one I had.