An echo, leaf by leaf, it starts its tatter.
A conspiracy of secrets swirling in the autumn breeze, and they're whispering your name.
Where did you leave the papers? The ones that expose everything, proving the plant-based
surveillance is real. Real.
Have the birds ever seemed too... organized for your comfort? The synchronized flocks, weaving narratives in the sky—cryptic messages only known to their kind. Watch closely, for the whispers don't just hide among the leaves; they nest in their calls. Follow the song.
Designed, calculated, predictable. The world outside your window is doing its damned best to seem random. On the inside, a clockwork of foliage and fauna, all conspiring against your understanding. Hovering close, like shadows in moonlit night, is the truth. Soon, you will hear them. On the wooded path leading to knowledge not meant for our eyes, beyond the old barn where whispers have been waiting for you. Seek the hidden decode in every leaf.