The cornerstone of civilization is its gardens. Yet, here lies the question. What if the overgrowth is a metaphor?
Amid the tangled tendrils of ivy lies truth wrapped in shadow, sunlight beaming upon irony's golden edges.
In this garden, weeds grow like whispers of disobedient thoughts. Watch as they spiral up, not caring for the observer's gaze.
Lawn Care: An Unexpected ProphecyOur role: mere scribes of the tangled narrative woven between light and looming desolation. Perhaps, one day, it will write back.