Ninhursag gave birth to Ninsar, or Lady Greenery. Enki met her, not knowing she was his daughter, and seduced her too.” “I think I saw that in a movie once”, I say, but she shushes me and keeps talking, not missing a beat. “Ninsar then gave birth to Ninkurra, or Lady Fruitfulness. But she, too, was seduced by the clueless Enki. Then, Uttu was born. Uttu means ‘weaver’ or ‘spider’”, my sister says proudly. “She was the weaver of the web of life. Later, Enki also seduced Uttu. So Uttu went to Ninhursag to complain about her husband’s promiscuity.” “Makes sense.” You can tell she is really into her storytelling at this point. She keeps running one hand through her hair, not really including me in her sphere of communication. “Ninhursag took the semen from Uttu’s womb and planted it in the ground. Eight different plants grew where she planted it. Enki found the plants, and his two-faced servant Isimud convinced him to eat them. So he ate every single one of the eight plants, and became pregnant in his jaw, his stomach, his legs and arms, which all grew with massive swellings.” “So how did they sort that out?” “Enki did not have a womb to give birth, so the gods weren’t sure what to do.” She has grown distant, playing with her toes. “They sat in the dust, ambivalent.” I keep looking at her. Wait. Wait.