Dusk under a wild fig tree, its gnarled, cable-like roots lying on the shore of a clean lake. Green, milky tones buzz in the lightly humid air against a splendid and unencumbered sunset. We are reminded that the true beauty of the fig tree comes not from the sticky-sweet fruit alone, but from its place within the entirely of the tree, and in turn, the tree's place within the world that surrounds and shelters it.