In the heart of Chinatown, behind an old brick lane you will find a single wild row of flowers and herbs, a riot of colours and aromatics, untamed and free. Every day, a gardener tends to its whims, letting the floralcy grow wherever it pleases.

But one day, the gardener decided that the wildness had to end. She took up her shears and set to work, cutting and digging, shaping and pruning. The once free-flowing florata was transformed, cast into perfect right angles, into a neatly squared-off row.

"There she said," when it was done. Now the wildness and freedom were replaced by order and control. The perfectly manicured hedge.