The brown branches and grass at the bottom of the tree trunk often served as hiding places for small creatures, who ran amuck in the garden. These places of refuge had long-forgotten names, and their acacia-paneled roofs hid the bodies beneath the branches. These underground gardens existed only by virtue of a contract, respect for which was ensured by various rituals. In them the dead returned, not from within, but from without. Their mourning supplied the continuous murmuring of a subterranean language.