οὐδὲν ἐξ οὐδενός (Greek); ex nihilo nihil fit (Latin) We're told we have nothing to fear from the gods: the universe operates following only the codes of a pre- established science, not the fallout from their bitter wars or petty jealousies. The atoms of what we call our fate are mistakes made from basic human imperfection. How could anyone know the child would one day turn against the parent? How could we know one would drift down- river while the other spent the days weeping into her tea? If nothing could ever be produced from nothing, neither sadness nor happinesss nor unknowing can be blamed for any beginning or ending, nor the long accordion in the middle. Light rises, light sets. At dawn, birds forage in the garden of the house finally abandoned by its occupants. Who knows the real cause of anything that happened? A vessel breaks, spilling its contents— each had need of the other to continue.