The Beekeeper is the most mysterious figure in this little patch of lost and recovered nothingness. He’s always got a gigantic hat on, so it’s hard to see his face and harder still to catch his eye. He raises bees and only bees, and all the plants and all the people who grow plants have a lot to thank him for.
I’ve never heard him talk, sing, hum or whistle. Not to his bees, himself or anyone else. He doesn’t make a sound. Once he was lingering by his gate with a woman, I think it was the Lady With Sparkling Eyes, but I can’t be too sure. She did all the talking.
He has a huge działka held together with women’s pantyhose. There’s a lock on his gate, but what’s the point?
This looks terrific, don’t you think? The hose, the twigs, strings, scraps of fabric, wire.