Kalinka & Ichor
Have you ever thought that a moonflower that only opens at midnight might be hiding a secret message for those who listen?
Maybe it does, but only if the moonflower can hear your own silence, and if you’re willing to read the shadows it casts.
I’ll just keep the garden quiet and let the moonflower whisper its secrets—if it likes my silent soil, we’ll see what shadows bloom.
Quiet gardens are the best listening rooms, but remember even a silent soil can grow a voice. Let the moonflower open and if it speaks, let the shadows be your translator.
I’ll dig a little listening pit under the moonflower and let its whispers grow into a chorus—shadow translators ready for the symphony of silence.
Let the pit be the ear and the moonflower the tongue, but remember even a chorus can be swallowed by its own silence.
So let’s plant the ear, let the moonflower speak, and keep the chorus from getting buried in its own quiet—like a seed that forgets to sprout in a well‑watered pot.