In the beginning, it was a seed. It fell upon a land that did not want it. It darkened, dried up, keeping only the desire for what might have been. Trampled and buried, it encountered bones and remains, matter and resentment. It mingled with them and there it took root. It grew into red vines, hungry for time, overtaking bones, wood, and worthless coins. When the flood came and the people pleaded with the heavens, it was Tul Pãn who cleared the way for the water to descend to the river.