The Shadow Tree

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The illustrations of this book are blueprints produced using the technique of collage and sunlight.

A limited number of books printed in Braille have been published and offered by the author to selected institutions for the blind.

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For my nephews For Nelly

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Once upon a time on the top of a mountain there lived a little tree

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“What hurts you, blesses you Darkness is your candle” Jalal al-Din Rumi

Once upon a time on the top of a mountain there lived a little tree.

The tree was very small and constantly frightened: it was afraid of the dark, afraid of the light, but most of all it was afraid of shadows – the tree was even afraid of its own shadow.

The other trees in the wood tried to soothe the frightened tree with stories: in the evenings they would tell the tale of a bird, the Phoenix, who would sing so beautifully that all the trees, flowers and bushes were bewitched. Even the Moon, they said, would stop its chariot across the heavens just to hear the bird’s sweet voice.

Although no one had ever seen the bird, the trees swore that it was real.

The little tree loved the story of the Phoenix and would wait every evening for the fairy tale bird to appear.

But the bird never came.

One day a terrible fire started in the forest.

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And as the fire got closer, the light grew stronger, the shadows around the trees grew larger and the little tree was terrified. It began to shrink and wither. Amidst the flames it saw its own shadow grow larger and spread out in front of it in a horrifying way –until it was taller than the tree itself.

The tree understood that there was no way it was going to survive. It covered its eyes with its little leaves so it would not see.

And yet as it struggled with its fears, it noticed that its shadow, which by now seemed enormous and much stronger than the tree, was also shaking with fear. Feeling sorry for her and wanting to help, in one movement, it pulled off two strips of bark from its trunk and gave them to Shadow. “Here, take these strips of bark, Shadow, make shoes out of them and run away as fast as you can. You are light and strong; you can save yourself. Get away from here and at least you will be spared.”

As it tore off the bark from its trunk, the tree felt a sharp pain and began to cry.

Shadow took the shoes the tree had given her and put them on.

The little tree’s shoes really were magical, because as soon as she put them on, Shadow could move and walk, just like a human! And she could even run!

And so, Shadow began to run as fast as she could in the opposite direction from the blazing forest.

As she gained in distance, a little spark – like a flickering candle – jumped into her chest, at the point where her heart was. And behind her she heard the little tree shouting, “Look for the light, Shadow. The light will take care of you.”

But Shadow hated light. It reminded her of the fire that burned her little tree.

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The tree understood that there was no way it was going to survive. It covered its eyes with its little leaves so it would not see

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“I will always hide in the dark,” she swore to herself.

And so she did.

Shadow walked only in the evenings, all alone.

At noon and in the afternoon, when the sun was high in the sky and shadows were growing larger and longer, Shadow went into hiding.

And she got thinner and thinner.

Upset and alone, Shadow begged to be able to disappear from the world. She hated her blurry gray color. She hated the little flame that burned in her chest instead of a heart – a speck of light in her vast darkness.

And in a matter of days Shadow became a shadow of her former self.

Nevertheless, Shadow continued to walk alone every evening and always hid when she got near people, going further and further away from the forest where she was born and raised.

But she had no one to talk to.

Because wherever she went no one wanted Shadow for company.

People were afraid of her and shooed her away, faded and feeble though she was.

When she happened to pass by houses, the women who caught a glimpse of her mistook her for dirt and scrubbed their courtyard tiles and pavements even harder, grumbling to themselves, “Whose shadow are you? Why do you keep going around alone? All the other shadows belong somewhere.”

This Shadow, however, belonged nowhere.

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She’d take this road, then take another, deciding that she had to get even further away to unknown places to find better luck.

So, she kept walking and walking down the mountain on an endless path that was lined with flowers and trees that were so different from what she knew; she had never seen anything like them before.

As Shadow had no fixed destination, and no idea where she wanted to go, she began to follow the tracks that small animals had left in the earth. Looking down and around her, Shadow forgot herself in the lush beauty of the trees and flowers and many days passed until she found herself in a forest that seemed to resemble the forest of her childhood, with trees that looked like her tree, although they were slightly bigger.

As soon as she saw this place Shadow took heart: “This seems a friendly place. Someone here might be willing to keep me,” she told herself.

But even these trees gave her a polite brush off: “Here each one of us has his own shadow. We don’t need you,” they said.

Only one small tree, that was about the same height as Shadow and was about her age, seeing her so weak and exhausted, took pity on her: “Stay with me if you like, Shadow. I can take you in for a little while.”

“Thank you so much, my good tree,” sighed Shadow, greatly relieved.

“My name is Nestos,” continued the tree. “They call me that because my leaves are a big trap, a nest for insects and little animals.”

“What do you mean?” asked Shadow.

“Well, I like to watch the insects and the animals that get trapped in my leaves. I lie in wait and as soon as enough of them get close, I catch them in my branches. I keep them captive and if they get into

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“My name is Nestos,” continued the tree. “They call me that because my leaves are a big trap, a nest for insects and little animals”

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my nose, I swallow them. This is my favourite occupation,” said Nestos, chuckling. “Come, let’s trap some together. That will be even more fun.”

Shadow didn’t really understand what the tree meant. And she didn’t think it sounded like much fun either.

But she was very tired and lonely, so she decided to stay.

In the days that followed Shadow realized that Nestos was strict and strange. Every morning at daybreak, he would shake Shadow till she woke up and begin his commands and exercises. Shadow had to undergo special training in order to become the perfect shadow for him, or so he said. And if at times she would complain and crumple up from trying so hard, Nestos would scold her and tell her to pull herself together, reminding her that “love means sacrifices.”

Nestos was not at all pleased when his needs were ignored; nor did he permit any mistakes.

Shadow felt even more unhappy and exhausted than before.

She wanted to leave but she felt listless and weak. Just like the birds and little creatures in Nestos’s branches, she too was trapped. And if at times she thought of fleeing, she would panic. The world was so big and hostile to shadows who flitted around alone, something that Nestos never failed to remind her of every time he caught her thinking of leaving him.

However, despite the intensive exercises and the exhausting chores, not only was there no improvement, to the contrary, as she grew, Shadow was evolving quite differently from Nestos.

One day, out of the blue, Nestos looked at Shadow with scorn and said, “It’s a waste of time for us to try to be together. We have nothing in common. You have a tall, slim trunk, your leaves are thin and pointed,

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while mine are bushy and plump. You have weird, unmanageable tufts and you look like a punk, while I am a serious, dignified tree with thick and finely combed foliage. I get a kick out of trapping insects in my leaves, you prefer listening to your stupid stories. As I grow, I’m acquiring a shape very different from yours. It’s no longer fun to have you around.”

Nestos’s words upset Shadow so much that she decided to try even harder to adjust to his ways. She promised that she would stretch her limbs further, that she would stick out her ribs as far as they would go, that she would do everything and anything in her power to become his perfect shadow. She struggled to tidy her leaves; she tortured her little body attempting to copy his shape.

In vain. Shadow’s body became full of bruises and hurt even more, but she didn’t open her mouth all day for fear Nestos would kick her out.

Nestos could see that Shadow was trying to change without any success and got even more annoyed.

“It’s time we made up our minds, Shadow. You’re holding me back. I can’t grow with you. Go away and let me make my own shadow, one that will be exactly like me and will obey me, without causing any problems. I’m fed up with having you around.”

And with that, Nestos kicked Shadow out for the last time, his patience at an end.

Realizing there was nothing more to be done, Shadow swallowed her shame, put her shoes back on and set off for somewhere else. But even though her trials, her exercises and her exhausting daily chores were over, she felt no joy at all at leaving.

And yet, as she walked for nights on end totally alone, sometimes she was freezing with cold, sometimes so hot that she thought she would melt into a shapeless sludge that from moment to moment would

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dissolve into the ground. Even the little flame in her chest was so faint that it was almost extinguished.

One day, as she was wandering aimlessly, she noticed a dragonfly with golden wings and stopped to admire its strange beauty. She followed it, enchanted, until it arrived at a clearing where two roads met. In the middle of the clearing there stood a very impressive tall tree. It must have been a very old tree, because its shadow seemed as big as the world and its roots, long and thick, rose so high above the ground that they resembled wooden benches. All sorts of tired creatures and birds had stopped to rest on them.

“What’s your name?” Shadow asked the tree.

“My name is Platanus,” the tree replied. “But you can call me Plato. We plane trees offer our shade to passersby and I make friends with the birds who build their nests in my branches.”

“May I join them and stay with you, Plato,” Shadow pleaded. “I’m alone and tired. Soon the sun will be up and I don’t like light.”

“You may stay as long as you like,” Plato replied. “Your company will be a great pleasure to me. I will take care of you as well as I can, with all my love. And you should know that everyone who comes to stay with me never wants to go anywhere else, they find my hospitality so warm and agreeable.”

“I am small and weak and you are big and strong,” Shadow said, her voice shaking. “Will we get along?”

“Don’t worry about whether we’ll get along,” Plato assured her. “You can hide inside me. I’m so much bigger than you. It doesn’t matter that we are different.”

Shadow didn’t really understand what Plato meant. But she didn’t care, either. She was so tired and Plato was so good and kind, that even if she wanted to refuse, she could not have done so.

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And as Shadow had sensed, Plato really was a wise and generous tree.

He embraced Shadow with all his love and she found a welcome refuge in his arms.

In the evening the birds, insects, squirrels and other creatures who were housed in the thick leaves of the plane tree, as well as the humans who sat on its thick roots chatting among themselves about serious and mundane matters, were all grateful for Plato’s benevolent presence. Sometimes the people talked for hours on end, sometimes they told jokes and laughed, sometimes they wept at sad stories, sometimes they argued and then patched up their differences.

Shadow marvelled at how many different feelings they shared and she listened intently to the tales they told about their lives.

And when, sometimes, couples in love would come and cuddle on Plato’s roots, kissing each other passionately, swearing to love each other forever and murmuring endearments, Shadow was even happier and she blushed and smiled bashfully.

She truly learned so many interesting things being so close to Plato, more than she could have ever expected.

And Plato loved Shadow too.

But although he knew she appreciated his hospitality, he also saw that she was depressed and sad.

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And because he truly loved her, he decided one day to have a word with her. “Excuse me, Shadow, for what I’m about to tell you. You know you can stay with me for as long as you like, it’s a pleasure to have you.

But I sense that you’re not happy here. Perhaps it would be better for you to leave us. I’m only saying this because I love you.”

Listening to Plato, Shadow became very upset and frightened. “Please don’t throw me out, dearest Plato,” she begged. “I don’t want to leave.”

“I’m not throwing you out,” said Plato. “But if you stay here, you’ll always be only a part of my shadow. You will never discover your own true self.”

At first Shadow didn’t want to hear what Plato was saying. She did not even understand what he meant.

As for Plato, he never talked to her about leaving again.

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“Good luck,” Plato told Shadow, as they said their farewells

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However, as time passed, Shadow was able to reflect on Plato’s words.

She had grown stronger under his care, she had put on some weight, she had expanded her knowledge and learned some valuable skills.

She learned, for example, that on nights when the moon was out, the birds’ songs often sounded sweeter than they did by daylight and that silence had a more discreet, more profound beauty than the melody of a breeze. She also learned that people don’t always say what they want to or even mean what they say. But that the most beautiful among them – though they might seem overly dramatic sometimes – were those who were in love. They were also the strangest; they reminded her of exotic birds ready to fly. Finally, Shadow learned that listening was often more useful and interesting than speaking and that someone who could overcome his fears could also overcome himself.

And although that was difficult, Shadow learned that it was absolutely essential if someone wanted to live life to the fullest.

In the end, Shadow learned that only by learning does life acquire meaning and joy.

One day, after a great deal of thought and having absorbed all these lessons, Shadow had to admit it: “Perhaps it would be better if I leave.”

Plato was sorry to lose his beloved Shadow, whom he loved dearly, but he was happy that she had come to the decision herself. And he felt deep inside himself that it would do her good to be elsewhere, far from him.

And because he truly loved her, he was able to let her go.

“Good luck,” Plato told Shadow, as they said their farewells. “We had a wonderful time together; we shared our sorrows and our joys. And now the hour has come that we must part and our hearts are dark with sadness. But there is no sadness without joy and no real joy without sadness.

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“But even though we will not be together any longer, our minds and our souls will never be apart.”

And so, Shadow resumed her travels. She put her shoes back on and began to walk alone for nights on end.

This time, however, she was not so depressed. She carried with her the love of Plato and the thought of him kept her company and comforted her.

As she walked, crossing endless stretches of sown fields, plains and valleys, Shadow caught sight of two little butterflies and she was impressed by their strange wings. And because she had no specific destination in mind, Shadow decided to follow them to see where they were going.

Eventually Shadow and the butterflies arrived at a deserted place where not a single tree was growing, an empty place with only a solitary red house set between two low hills that reminded her of the land with two mountains where she had been born years before.

As Shadow passed next to the house and thought how different it was from all the other houses she had seen, a little bird poked out from the window and began a rhythmic song – tick tock tick tock, drmmmmmm – like a clock. In its beak it held a key, which it threw on the ground, and fluttered hastily behind the window shutters.

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Shadow approached the red house, cautiously at first, and picked up the key that was lying on the ground.

And since dawn was about to break and she had to find somewhere to hide, Shadow decided to take shelter inside the house with the strange bird, where from inside the shutter flaps there came a faint light.

Although Shadow knew that this could be dangerous, her instinct told her to be bold.

She inserted the key into the keyhole and pushed the wooden door lightly. With a scrunnnch, it opened wide in front of her!

Then before her eyes Shadow saw the most peculiar spectacle she had ever seen: in the center of the high-ceilinged room with its red walls and innumerable small corridors, like arcades, there was a staircase that led to an attic. And from a hole in the roof a small ray of light entered!

Shadow started to climb the wooden staircase, slowly, a step at a time.

Just before she arrived at the attic, she stood for while without moving, hidden behind the bannister, and looked around nervously, trying not to be seen. She tried so hard not to make a sound that she even held her breath. And there she saw an old man standing next to a wooden box which he was winding slowly with something that looked like a crank, projecting onto a white cloth the light that was coming from the open chimney. His movement seemed to be producing sounds – tick tock tick tock – that sounded like a clock.

And then black shadows started to dance on the white surface.

Shadow was ecstatic!

She drew up her courage and went a little closer.

“Hello,” she mumbled hesitantly to the puppeteer.

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“Hi there, Shadow,” he replied without a hint of surprise, as if he’d been expecting Shadow for a long time!

“Welcome to the Dream Factory! This is where we gather dreams and make stories out of them.”

Shadow was even more thrilled. “That sounds fantastic! How do you do it?”

“It’s simple. We collect light from the moon with the dream collector that’s in the chimney,” the puppeteer said as he showed her the hole in the roof. “Then with this little box, we turn dolls, objects – anything you can imagine – into moving shadows and the shadows into images.

Do you want to see?”

“Oh yes, please,” cried Shadow. “You’re a puppeteer?”

“Not exactly. I’m really a gardener and a kind of mechanic,” said the old man, laughing. “They call me Gardner. I bring light from the heavens into this house- ‘workshop’-factory.”

Shadow was bursting with curiosity to learn how Gardner carried out this magic.

She sat down on one of the chairs in the attic and waited impatiently for the show to begin.

Soon she heard the voice of Nota – the little bird that she’d seen at the window.

It seemed that Nota came out of the window at exactly the same time every day to announce the start of a new performance.

It was exactly five o clock in the morning!

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The puppeteer immediately began at once to turn the crank on the box, which threw light from the collector in the chimney in the direction of the white sheet. With this movement, as if automatically, shadows were born on the white surface and began their magic dance.

Then, slowly but surely a story unfolded before Shadow’s eyes. A story with an end, middle and beginning, original, delightful and sad, like all stories.

At the end of the performance, the actors came out from behind the sheet and bowed to the audience. As the light shone directly on them, Shadow noticed that the actors were not shadows at all but three wooden puppets!

“How beautifully you danced,” she congratulated them one by one, while thinking, “Hmm, now I see that shadows can be something useful!”

Then she turned towards the puppeteer with a huge smile. “You must be a magician. What you do is pure magic!”

“I don’t do anything magical. Or unusual,” he said. “In actual fact, I don’t do anything more than what the trees, flowers and plants do. They gather sunlight and use it to make their fruits, leaves and perfumes. As well as nests for birds. While I take light from the moon, stars and children’s dreams to weave stories out of them.

“Light is the factor that transforms objects into stories. Dreams into pictures. It is the source of my craft and the source of the dreams that turns my every movement into magic. I’m not the magician, it’s the light that is magical.”

Shadow was puzzled. And happy. And sad. All at the same time. And she missed her tree, who like all plants, also used to make fruit, leaves and other useful things. She, on the other hand, now that she had no tree, no light, no leaves, of what possible use could she be?

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Shadow turned black with her dark thoughts and felt even more depressed.

“Are you saying that what you do is something that everyone can do?” she asked the old man. “Then why can’t I do it?”

“Of course you can. You just have to learn how,” he said with a gentle smile.

Shadow had no idea what he meant.

“Wherever there is light there is also shadow. And vice versa. You cannot have one without the other.”

Shadow still didn’t understand what he was talking about. But she did know that she wanted to remain in this house.

“Could I join you here?” she asked Gardner. “I’m a shadow, flexible and adaptable. I’ll do whatever you ask me to, I’ll dance or if you want, I could be the backdrop for your work. I’m quiet, I won’t be a nuisance.

I’ll do whatever you want.”

The puppeteer, who was a good man, listened to Shadow, and accepted her request with great pleasure. He hired her as his assistant and taught her how to act and dance as a performer in his shows, just like his wooden puppets.

And the longer Shadow stayed with them, every day, every hour, her surprise and delight never waned as she watched the puppeteer work his alchemy to turn the light from the stars and the moon into multicoloured, magical stories. At the same time, she too learned how to crank the machine and transform light.

“As the light can change shadows and make them long and thin or short and fat, so things are seldom what they seem at first glance,” gardner used to say. And then he would laugh, “It is, you see, a

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question of principle or stage direction: it all depends on where you shine the light!”

Shadow stayed with Gardner for a long time and was delighted with her new job. She loved the old man, his theater and his wooden puppets, and the performances, which she acted in.

The first of the three puppets, Faith, was the strongest and most contrary, as well as the most independent. They nicknamed her Fay because she liked sweets so much, especially the flaky pastries called millefeuille, which she could eat by the dozen when she was upset.

Felicia was a lovely girl, as happy as her name, and proud, but a bit stuck up. She loved to nibble on pomegranate seeds and she was never without a little bottle of her favorite drink, a liqueur made of pomegranate seeds, honey and rose geranium, so that whenever she needed a “pick me up,” she would take a sip of this magic elixir.

Over time this had earned her the nickname Lixy. The third puppet, Asterios, was the most solitary of the three dolls. He was always absent minded and a day dreamer. His behavior was also somewhat odd. He would always draw back when someone came near him. His mind was always travelling elsewhere and he was forever looking at the sky.

Every now and then he would shout excitedly, “Wow, aren’t those stars awesome!”

Because of his habits, everyone called him Dreamy.

Finally, there was Nota, who as the “DJ” gave a rhythm to the strange factory-clock and had the overall responsibility for the music, while as the magic bird that she was, she spoke all the languages of the bird world.

For as long as Shadow stayed in the Dream Factory, she learned a great number of beautiful and useful things. She learned that for a story to be true, it doesn’t have to be absolutely factual and real. She also learned that working together in a group was much more productive than trying to do something on one’s own and there is nothing nicer than a bunch of good friends.

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Finally, she learned that miracles happen every moment, even if they may often pass unobserved, and that light is the best teacher and stage director of all.

One miracle that Shadow expected to happen never did occur though.

No matter how much she longed for it, how much she prayed for it, unlike her fellow actors who from wooden puppets turned into shadows, she never managed to become anything else.

One day, she was so sad and disappointed that she decided to ask Gardner to make her wooden too and to adopt her as his child.

She went up close to him and holding her shoes in her hands, the only wooden things she possessed, she offered them to him. “Take these shoes, dear puppeteer, and carve them into a doll so beautiful that everyone will love her and want her as their friend. I want to become just like your other puppets. I’m tired of being myself,” she announced.

But instead of being happy as Shadow had expected, the puppeteer started to shout at her. “How can you even think of asking me to do such a thing, Shadow? I would never ever do anything to change you.

You ought to know that!”

Then he calmed down and said, “Please hold onto your shoes. Promise me that you will never give them away. To anyone. No matter how much you love someone, no matter how much you trust them. They belong to you alone, and they are invaluable. Don’t you ever forget that!”

The puppeteer explained to Shadow that if someone walked in the shoes of another, they could read the other’s heart and guess their secrets. And that is why usually, though not always, shoes must always be returned to their rightful owner. Every time.”

He stressed this last piece of advice and made her promise she would obey him.

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And Shadow promised.

Time passed quickly with so many shows and music and Shadow had grown accustomed to her life in the theater. But although she had initially felt that she had finally found a purpose to her existence, she started to miss the trees, nature and openness of the forests.

She came to realize that not even the theater could make her truly happy.

One day she went to the puppeteer and told him that she wanted to leave. “Don’t take offense, dear Gardner. You know how much I love you and how much I long for us to be together, but the time has come for me to depart.”

Not only was Gardner not at all surprised by Shadow’s declaration but he was overjoyed with her decision.

He had expected that one day Shadow would ask him for permission to leave the theater.

“We don’t want to lose you, Shadow, but I am so pleased that you have made up your mind to go,” he told her. “I am well aware that you don’t really belong with us. You are a shadow of the day time. My shadows are creatures of the moon. And you have learned everything I have to teach you. I’ve taught you how to transform dreams into stories.

I’ve taught you the rules. Now that you know the rules, you can break them. But make sure you do so for the right reasons. This is what I wish for you. That you be free to go wherever you want. But before you go, we have some things to give you.”

After Gardner had finished speaking, the puppets came close to Shadow, one after the other, and each one handed her a present.

“May you be as free as the wind in the branches,” said Lixy, giving her

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After Gardner had finished speaking, the puppets came close to Shadow, one after the other, and each one handed her a present

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a red pomegranate. “Take this fruit and make your own elixir so that you will always have good luck. Choose the best ingredients, things that you love best – as well as the most nutritious – and every time you drink it, you will feel truly invincible.”

“I will give you a lotus, to me the most beautiful of flowers,” said Fay. “Although it’s very delicate, the lotus blooms in mud. Furthermore, it withdraws into the mud every evening and is reborn, as pure and white as snow, the next morning. And it does this every day. It is practically immortal! Remember this, Shadow, and forget all the others and whoever betrays you, because they do not deserve your time,” she said, and took a big bite of the millefeuille she had in her other hand.

“And I am going to give you a sssssstar,” stammered Dreamy, as he reached up to grab something from the sky. “This is the brightest one of all. It’s almost purple,” he went on, pointing to a blazing star that really did look almost red. “Every time you have a dream, you must nurture it like a seed and give it the best possible loving care. And then you must trust in the wide Horizon, the cosmic Gardener. And always look up, at the big dark machine that turns out dreams,” he said with a wink.

“And don’t forget, even if all the lights in the world go out, the stars will always be shining,” he said as he waved goodbye.

Shadow thanked them all, touched by their words and gifts.

She gathered the presents together and put on her wooden shoes.

As she walked away, she turned her head a moment for one last time, to record what she was leaving behind, and she caught sight of Gardner’s face, wet with tears and waving a silent farewell. She thought of his last words: “Live with all your heart, because that’s the only thing that makes life worth living.”

Then she heard Nota’s sweet voice like a distant echo, singing to her: “I wear my shoes and drift along / listening to my favorite song/ I choose to live in my own way/I am a rider on the heart’s highway”

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At the sound of her voice, Shadow felt such a sharp twinge of sadness that she began to cry.

But she had learned to be strong, and so she kept on walking and was not tempted to change her mind.

As she set out on her new journey, she realized that this time she did not feel alone. Strangely, she had already found peace of mind in her solitude.

This time, for the first time, Shadow felt that both her steps and her heart were lighter.

And while at the beginning of her journey, she had felt constantly tired and weak, as if she were walking through quicksand, now her steps did have a rhythm, as if she really were dancing to the beat of a tune, and to protect her, she had the love and gifts of her dear friends for company. Shadow was no longer afraid.

Now Shadow had her own personal elixir of strength and the ability to remember only that which was worth remembering and to forget everything else. She also had the sky and the stars – and even had her own star burning so brightly that it was almost red. It never left the heavens and whenever she wanted, she could lift her head and gaze at it. For the first time Shadow had her very own star to follow so she would never lose her way. She wondered whether that star was always there and she just hadn’t noticed it or if it had only now appeared in the sky.

She walked for many days and many nights, so many that Shadow gave up counting them.

And after so much walking on a deserted road, Shadow kept following her star until she saw in the distance a place that reminded her again of the forest where she’d spent her childhood, even though in reality

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there was nothing there that resembled a forest. Instead, there were a couple of round lakes, one large and the other smaller, set amongst low shrubs. Water from the big lake was spilling into something that Shadow later learned was called “the sea.” There was a jetty there with stone steps that led to some wooden boxes that Shadow later found out were called “boats.”

And in the midst of the “sea”, the immense body of water way beyond the two lakes Shadow saw a large cylindrical building that had a light on top of it, like an eye, that revolved around it and lit up the landscape, flashing at regular intervals. Shadow learned afterwards that it was called a “lighthouse.”

As soon as she saw the lighthouse, Shadow heard its strange sound – like a heartbeat – and thought that it resembled a big illuminated heart that was beating and it reminded her of the puppeteer with his magic box that gave birth to light. She said to herself that the lighthouse was like that magic box. The only thing that was missing was the crank. Just as the puppeteer’s house collected moonlight and projected it on the wall, so the lighthouse seemed to gather light and project it, not on a wall or a sheet, but on the infinite sky!

How many stories was it whispering to the horizon!

While all these thoughts were running through Shadow’s mind, her heart filled with longing and nostalgia for the stories of the old days.

And she went to sit on the hill with the lighthouse behind her, feeling both sad and joyful before so much beauty. It was the time of the day when darkness is entering the light or vice-versa -one couldn’t’ really tell whether it was sunset or dawn. But Shadow didn’t care: she raised her head to the sky and closed her eyes and drank in the beauty around her, which she could sense without even seeing it.

Suddenly Shadow felt sad again. She was sick of walking. How she wished for somewhere to anchor. The yearning was so painful that Shadow began to weep. And she turned her gaze back to the area of the lake.

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Τhere were a couple of round lakes, one large and the other smaller, set amongst low shrubs. Water from the big lake was spilling into something that Shadow later learned was called “the sea.” There was a jetty there with stone steps that led to some wooden boxes that Shadow later found out were called “boats”

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There Shadow saw a tree, a young one like her, that was somehow different from the other trees Shadow had seen – a tree with a round head that swivelled left and right like a lighthouse – and it was covered with mouth-watering fruit, that looked like pomegranates!

But this creature wasn’t a lighthouse, it was indeed a beautiful pomegranate tree covered with bright red pomegranates.

Next to it, she saw on the banks of the big lake, a host of small dazzling white flowers – white lotuses – like Fay’s flowers!

“How strange, to find my friends’ gifts right here,” she thought. “Only the star is missing.” Then she raised her head again to the sky, this time with her eyes open. She was flummoxed by what greeted her. The night was bright, brighter than any other night. It was flooded with stars, countless stars, not just one.

On this particular evening, in this particular place, the stars that now shined even brighter looked so close. It was the first time Shadow had seen so many and shining so brightly. For the first time Shadow noticed how ravishing, how vast the heavens were. And, amidst all the other stars, there was her own flaming red one, faithful and proud. A living fire, like the flame that was burning in her heart!

For the first time in her life Shadow was not afraid anymore: she knew what lies behind the deepest darkness: the promise of a new day.

All these coincidences convinced Shadow that this was the perfect place for her and she wanted to live here forever. But how could she make this happen?

She could look for a friendly place to stay, as she had before. But the only tree in the area, the Pomegranate, was so very different from her: short and plump, with a round head and large fruit, while Shadow was tall and slender and had no fruit.

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They had nothing in common. . .

As Shadow was mulling over these thoughts, racking her brains for a solution, an idea suddenly came to her. Perhaps she could try living alone? She was old enough. She no longer needed someone to look after her. Now she felt strong enough and readier than ever. Even ready to accept the fate of being a solitary shadow. A shadow without roots.

While she was lost in thought, Shadow heard a voice from afar, greeting her.

“Hello there, Shadow! What’s your name?”

It was the voice of the Pomegranate tree.

Shadow started walking down the hill to hear the tree better. As soon as she got close enough, she said, “Hello to you, Pomegranate. How are you? What do you do?”

“I do a lot of very interesting things,” said the tree. “I count the hours and the minutes with the help of the sun, by turning my head,” and she shook her head lightly, as if to demonstrate or perhaps to think. She had a sundial for a head. “I also donate my fruit, which is very tasty and juicy, to people. They are pink and that’s why people call me Rosie. But you haven’t answered my question. What is your name?”

“I don’t have a name,” said Shadow. “Once I belonged to a tree.

Everyone calls me Shadow but I don’t know my real name.”

“Hmmmm,” mused Rosie. “You say, you used to belong to a tree.

Where is that tree now?”

“It was burned in a fire.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. So, you are all by yourself now?”

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On this particular evening, in this particular place, the stars that now shined even brighter looked so close. It was the first time Shadow had seen so many and shining so brightly.

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“Yes, all alone. Totally alone,” sighed Shadow.

The pomegranate tree gave the matter some thought. “You say that your tree was destroyed in a fire. Are you quite sure?”

“What do you mean?” asked Shadow. “Don’t you believe me?”

“Of course, I believe you,” said Rosie. “But I can’t get it out of my mind that you are that tree.”

Shadow didn’t understand a word of what Rosie was saying. But something deep inside told her that Rosie could be trusted.

“Would you like to stay with me?” said Rosie. “It’s very beautiful here.

There’s plenty of sun. And there’s the sea.”

“What’s the sea?” asked Shadow. She had never heard the word before.

“It’s that big expanse of water that begins at the sandy shore,” answered Rosie, pointing with a branch towards the lake.

“It looks like it goes on forever. And what lies beyond the sea?” asked Shadow.

“Beyond the sea lies the ocean.”

“And where does the ocean begin? And where does it end?” Shadow kept up her questioning. She loved learning new things.

“Mmmm, it doesn’t begin anywhere in particular, nor does it really end anywhere. The sea and the ocean are one and the same thing. You can’t really separate them.”

“What do you mean?”

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“The ocean includes the sea, and the sea is part of the ocean. You can’t tell where one begins and the other ends” Rosie continued and Shadow was quiet for a while. She was remembering what Gardner had said about the darkness and the light, but she said nothing to Rosie about what she was thinking.

“Come with me and I’ll show you,” said Rosie, breaking into her day dream. And as she was standing motionless with her roots embedded deep into the earth, she grabbed two strips of bark from her trunk and put them on like shoes, in the same way that Shadow’s own tree had done for her!

“What, you have shoes too?” cried Shadow in amazement.

“But, of course. Why? Maybe you thought you were the only tree in the entire world who was able to walk?” said Rosie, her whole body shaking with laughter.

“But how?” wondered Shadow.

“Bend over a little, said Rosie, with a wink. “I’ll let you in on a secret, but I want it to stay between us. All of us trees have a pair of shoes. It’s just that most of them don’t know it.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s no joke. And of those who do know it, most of them don’t dare to wear their shoes and certainly don’t attempt to walk.”

“Why not?” asked Shadow.

“Who knows? Maybe they feel insecure,” answered Rosie with a proud smile, maybe feeling a bit superior, since she was a brave pomegranate who often put on her shoes and took a walk.

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She took Shadow by the hand and began to pull her towards the wooden boxes that were floating in the sea.

“Choose a boat,” she told her.

Shadow picked one of the wooden boxes – a red boat as bright as the sun and her red star – and the two of them jumped into it and set sail for the open sea.

The closer they got to the deep blue sea, the more excited and delighted Shadow became.

“The sea is perfect! I have never in my life seen anything quite so beautiful and extraordinary,” shouted Shadow, awestruck.

“Here, take this telescope and you’ll see better,” said Rosie, handing her a funnel.

Shadow took the telescope and with her left eye began to examine the scenery, slowly turning her head, though it was less flexible that Rosie’s.

Now Shadow felt something completely new and sweet, which she later came to understand was what people meant by happiness.

Though at the time she could not have said that with certainty.

“I never imagined that the world was so big and important. Finally, all this travelling has been worth it,” she thought to herself, but then the idea brought intense feelings along with it and her eyes filled with tears.

But these tears were more tears of joy than sorrow.

“Why are you crying,” asked Rosie, worried.

“I’m so happy,” said Shadow.

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“Well, now, that you’ve seen how beautiful it is here, do you want to stay with me? We can grow up together, and you won’t be alone.”

“Do I want to!” said Shadow joyfully. “And I thank you so much for the invitation. But, um, how can I tell you this, without hurting your feelings. I can’t accept your hospitality, or anyone else’s. I don’t want anyone looking after me.” Shadow was quiet for a moment. “What I mean to say is, I will be beside you. But I won’t be your shadow.”

Rosie looked at Shadow with affection. She seemed to understand what she was trying to say.

But then her head started to whirl around and around, like a crazy wheel.

“Are you okay?” asked Shadow, with concern.

“I’m fine. I’m just so happy,” Rosie reassured her. “Does this mean that you will remain here on your own? Is that what you want?”

“In other words, you don’t mind?” Shadow asked her again. She was afraid that Rosie would misunderstand and think she had snubbed her offer of hospitality.

“Yes, I mean that it doesn’t bother me at all. I would prefer, if you wanted it, for us to stay together, but I would never ask you to do anything that you didn’t want to do.”

Shadow remembered Nestos who had said that true love meant sacrifice.

As if reading her mind, Rosie went on, “Love does not demand sacrifices. Only those who are free can love.”

When Rosie said that, Shadow was delighted.

And so she stayed.

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“Here, take this telescope and you’ll see better,” said Rosie, handing her a funnel.

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And this time she did not stay for just a while as she had done up to now.

This time she stayed forever.

A few months after the day that Shadow decided to make her permanent home in the new place, she noticed with surprise that her feet had started to grow wooden roots that sank into the ground.

Real roots! In time she changed into a strong, tall tree. She bore fruits -delicious dates- and grew so tall, in fact, that she became at least three times taller than Rosie, maybe even more.

But that wasn’t the only miracle.

In the past Shadow had avoided the sun like the plague, but now, as a tree, she could not get enough of its gentle caress.

And what Shadow had been afraid of more than anything else, that with her transformation into a tree, she would lose herself, did not happen. On the contrary, amidst the branches of the new tree, Shadow now lives more powerful and happier than she thought possible.

She always holds in her hands the presents of her dear friends.

But that’s not the only miracle.

They say that, a short while after Shadow’s transformation, one night, completely out of the blue, a bird came and nested in her spiky branches. Not just any bird but the magic bird that Shadow had been looking for all her life.

It sounds impossible, but it’s true.

They even say that on that particular evening, which was cloudless and full of stars and the earth was flooded with the perfume of the lotus flowers next to the water, the lovely bird began to sing from the fronds

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A short while after Shadow’s transformation, one night, completely out of the blue, a bird came and nested in her spiky branches. Not just any bird but the magic bird that Shadow had been looking for all her life

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of the tree, a song so melodious that everything stopped in its tracks to listen. Even the moon. And that beautiful bird never stopped singing its tune from the tree’s branches every evening, for the rest of its life.

The strange bird never ever flew away from the warm embrace of the tree. It still lives on, hidden in her foliage.

Rosie the pomegranate gave the new tree the name of the mythical bird.

She called her Phoenix, or Palm Tree, as they were both born from fire.

Rosie and Phoenix loved each other deeply and remained inseparable friends.

Phoenix, born from Shadow, was not at all afraid of the light, nor was she afraid of shadows.

She loved her Shadow truly and profoundly. She held her close with love. She fed her the elixir of love – made from Rosie’s pomegranates – with a tiny spoon and sometimes she would eat the lotus flowers to forget. That way she never held any bad thoughts inside her. She remembered only what was truly of value and worthy of love.

Naturally her star was always above her – the reddest, most brilliant and her very own. The tree always looked at the sky with the same wonder and the same awe, just as Dreamy had, and every single time she found it more inspiring and more infinite.

Shadow inside Phoenix loved the light too and nurtured the little flame in her chest, where her heart was, making sure that it never went out.

She understood that the dark, like the light, are of equal importance, and that each one contains the other, just as the ocean contains the sea.

She also understood that sometimes it is just as hard to stay somewhere as it is to leave. And that to decide between the two, it is better to ask your heart, because “that is the only way to have a life worth living.”

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Shadow never forgot her promise to Gardner the puppeteer and never gave her wooden shoes to anyone, not even to Rosie, whom she trusted and loved.

She guarded them with gratitude inside her. She held them forever for herself.

Even if she didn’t ever need to wear her shoes again.

Next to the roots of the good-hearted pomegranate, Shadow/Phoenix hung up her wooden shoes for good.

And from that long night until today, on hot summer evenings, next to the sound of the waves, under the pale beam of the lighthouse, children come to Phoenix’s Shadow to sit and tell their stories for hours on end, stories with a beginning, a middle and an end, stories that are happy, stories that are sad, but also original, like all stories.

And Phoenix notes down their words with love and in the evenings whispers them into the ear of her bird, who keeps them safe in its memory and takes them with it in the mornings on its travels, as soon as the sun comes up, and spreads them everywhere to the ends of the earth.

Phoenix sings of the stories of the children. She shares them with her low and rhythmical voice to all the countries that she visits, wherever there are people, trees and birds because Phoenix is a magical bird who knows the languages of all the birds, the languages of the plants, and even those of the humans.

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Original Title: ΤΟ ΔΕΝΤΡΟ ΠΟΥ ΦΟΒΟΤΑΝ ΤΗ ΣΚΙΑ ΤΟΥ English Title: THE SHADOW TREE Text & Illustrations © ELENI GALANI 2021 First published in English by LULU.COM in 2021 © ELENI GALANI All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronical or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author ISBN 978-618-85342-1-6 First Edition: March 2021 Translated from the Greek: DIANA FARR LOUIS Layout / Cover Design: POP11 / Anastasia Karatsivi www.elenigalani.com email: helenegalani@gmail.com

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