You weren’t supposed to be here.
But the iron gate gave way with a gentle push, and curiosity tugged harder than caution.
The garden is overgrown, vines spilling from stone planters, fig leaves big enough to catch the sun. You trail your fingers along rough bark, brush past jasmine that clings to the air like the memory of sweet perfume left from another. Beneath it all—something green and ancient, moss rising from the cracks.
You pause, unsure what drew you here in the first place. But the serenity makes you feel welcome. Like being remembered.
You weren’t supposed to be here.
But the iron gate gave way with a gentle push, and curiosity tugged harder than caution.
The garden is overgrown, vines spilling from stone planters, fig leaves big enough to catch the sun. You trail your fingers along rough bark, brush past jasmine that clings to the air like the memory of sweet perfume left from another. Beneath it all—something green and ancient, moss rising from the cracks.
You pause, unsure what drew you here in the first place. But the serenity makes you feel welcome. Like being remembered.