I want a garden. It is as simple as that. This urge seems to come from a very ancient place. It is one which compels me to find that perfect piece of land to work and get to know on an intimate level: find out, what birds come here? Insects? How do the plants best compliment each other? What can I grow here? What wants to grow here? I find contemplations such as these demanding attention in my mind, pushing so many other things I once deemed important, like living in a city, aside. "It's your age," Helle, a 53 year-old who recalls Gertrude Stein . "It's hormones. I've had it happen to me twice in my life, and now I have a garden." I'm sitting at Bøssehuset (The Gay House) in Christiania for Gerry Hall's farewell party. It's a sunny day, and I'm among a collection of folk present to celebrate a life of a star who has returned to the heavens. I first met Gerry about four or five years ago at a party. He was also from the U.S. and h...