in the garden, where little seeds sprout and flowers bloom, it's like a magic horticulture book that's just opened up its pages to me. sometimes, i think plants and flowers have their own secret conversations, ones that are unuttered but understood by them, a language before it even has words, or pre-inception whispers. when the sun shines and the wind blows, it feels like they're trying to tell us something, maybe how to deflect sadness with their beauty or reignite joy with their colors.