Lina entered the City as the sun was setting.
The sky was pink.
The streets were empty.
Only somewhere in the distance could laughter be heard.
It sounded light.
Almost contagious.
Lina followed the sound.
Beyond the last house began an orchard.
She had never seen one like it.
The trees were low.
Their branches bent under the weight of fruit.
Some resembled apples.
Others – pears.
Others still glowed with a silver light.
People stood by every tree.
They were eating.
And smiling.
A gardener stood at the gate.
White gloves.
A neat suit.
He looked like a man who had never once dirtied his hands in his life.
– Hello.
He said.
– Help yourself.
– How much does it cost?
He laughed.
– You’re still asking about price?
Lina remembered the Market.
She said nothing.
She walked over to the first tree.
Small golden fruits hung from it.
Instead of a name, a single word was carved into the trunk.
LIKES.
People were picking the fruit.
The moment they tasted it, they’d glance around.
As if waiting.
A moment later they’d smile.
And pick another.
Larger fruit grew on the second tree.
Its name was:
FOLLOWERS
Everyone who ate the fruit turned around instantly.
Checking whether someone was following them.
If someone was – they smiled.
If not – they picked another.
The third tree was the tallest.
Its fruit was rare.
Large.
Gleaming.
On the trunk was written:
RECOGNITION
The longest line stood in front of it.
People waited patiently.
When they finally got the fruit, their eyes lit up briefly.
But just a few steps later, they’d turn back around.
As if checking…
Whether anyone had seen them get it.
– Why do they keep turning back?
Lina asked.
The gardener smiled faintly.
– Because the taste of this fruit is very brief.
He picked one.
Handed it to Lina.
– Try it.
Lina hesitated.
But took a bite anyway.
The taste was wonderful.
Warm.
Light.
She felt a strange lift.
As if she had suddenly become more important.
More needed.
Visible.
It felt pleasant.
Very pleasant.
A moment later the feeling began to fade.
Completely imperceptibly.
Lina instinctively glanced at the tree.
She wanted another one.
She surprised herself.
– What was that?
– Hunger.
A calm voice sounded beside her.
– But I just ate.
– It wasn’t your body that was hungry.
The gardener led her to the last tree.
It grew further away.
Almost no one went near it.
On the trunk was written:
STATUS
Its fruit was heavy.
It gleamed like metal.
People carried it in their hands.
Showed it to each other.
Compared.
Traded.
Took pride in it.
But not a single one of them ate it.
– Why?
Lina asked.
– Because taste doesn’t matter here.
What matters is that others see it.
She looked at the people.
One man held a huge fruit.
He looked exhausted.
His hands trembled from the weight.
But he wouldn’t let go.
Another woman could barely walk.
Several fruits hung from her shoulders.
She was smiling anyway.
As if afraid someone would think she was struggling.
– They could put it down.
Lina said.
– They could.
– Why don’t they?
– Because they’re afraid of going unnoticed.
They walked on.
A small bench stood at the far end of the orchard.
An old woman sat on it.
Plain clothes.
No jewelry.
No fruit.
She was quietly watching the orchard.
– Why aren’t you eating anything?
Lina asked.
The woman smiled.
– I used to.
– And?
– The more I got…
The less I knew who I was.
– How so?
– At first I enjoyed the praise.
Then I started waiting for it.
Later…
I could no longer live without it.
If no one praised me…
It felt as though I hadn’t existed that day.
Lina felt those words touch something in her.
She remembered herself.
After lectures.
After articles.
After successful sessions.
How she used to wait.
Whether someone would write.
Whether they’d thank her.
Whether they’d appreciate it.
She had never thought she depended on it.
But maybe…
She did, a little.
The old woman looked at her.
– Tell me.
If tomorrow no one praised you…
Would you still do what you do?
Lina didn’t answer.
The question seemed simple.
But the answer…
Wasn’t there.
Suddenly the orchard began to change.
The fruit started to darken.
People picked faster and faster.
One after another.
More and more greedily.
But their faces grew more and more exhausted.
Their eyes kept wandering.
Searching.
Waiting.
Hoping.
As if each next fruit would finally fill what the last one hadn’t.
But it never did.
– Is there a tree…
Whose fruit never runs out?
Lina asked.
The gardener nodded.
– There is.
– Where?
He pointed beyond the orchard fence.
A solitary oak grew there.
With no inscription.
No line.
No people.
– Why doesn’t anyone go to it?
– Because it gives nothing.
– Then what’s it for?
– It’s a reminder.
– Of what?
– That a tree doesn’t have to bear fruit…
To be a tree.
Lina looked at the old oak for a long time.
It stood alone.
Unnoticed.
Needed by no one.
And at the same time…
The sturdiest of them all.
She woke early.
This time she didn’t rush to the notebook.
First she opened the window.
Looked at the quiet morning for a long time.
Only then did she sit down at the desk.
In the black notebook she wrote:
Recognition is a gift.
A moment later she added:
Problems begin when the gift becomes food.
She looked at the sentence for a long time.
Then wrote the final line.
Recognition comes from others.
Dignity comes from yourself.