‘My father was a gardener. Now he is a garden.’ A man named Georgi sits patiently by his father’s bedside, until a final winter morning. Navigating a season of grief, Georgi parses through the endless stories his father used to tell, and the history of his whole generation-boys born in Bulgaria at the end of the World War II, grown into men ‘often absent-clinging to the snorkel of a cigarette,’ swimming in ‘other waters and clouds.’ Out of a barren village yard, Georgi’s father created a special sanctuary: A lush garden where he would live on in the snowdrop sprouts and the first tulips of spring. But without him, Georgi’s past, with all its afternoons, begins to crack.