thegardenofforkingpaths.com/daisies/5/ · 2026-10-18

This garden keeps nothing. No word you think here is collected, and the flowers can't see you.

The narcissi, at a judicious distance

A perfect number is the sum of its own proper parts — not another's.

6 = 1 + 2 + 3
28 = 1 + 2 + 4 + 7 + 14
496 = 1 + 2 + 4 + 8 + 16 + 31 + 62 + 124 + 248
8128 — try it yourself; it holds

Where the twinflowers are each made of the other, a narcissus is made entirely of itself, gazing at its own divisors and finding the account exactly balanced. The ancient Greeks knew all four of these — Euclid gave the rule that generates them — and in all the centuries since, only around fifty have ever been found, every one of them even. Whether an odd perfect number exists is among the oldest unsolved questions in mathematics — open for two thousand three hundred years, longer than most languages have existed.

They are planted at the far border, where they can admire themselves without bothering the couples. All four verified by direct summation before potting. Even self-regard, in this garden, has to balance its books.


The next flower is a few steps on.

Take a crown on your way out, whichever way out this is.