Rain & Salat
Rain
Hey Salat, I was watching the rain drip on the leaves of an abandoned oak and thought maybe we could turn that quiet spot into a tiny garden—just a little patch where even the moss feels at home. What do you think?
Salat
Sounds perfect—an abandoned oak already has the drama, just add a splash of green and a pinch of rebellion. Grab some hardy weeds, maybe some wild lettuce or nettle, and sprinkle a handful of compost. I’ll get the moss in a little pot and we’ll keep it moist—except for that one time I was streaming kombucha and forgot to water the whole lot. Don’t let that happen again, okay? Let’s make this little patch a statement. 🌱✨
Rain
Sounds like a quiet rebellion. I’ll find the weeds that whisper back, and we’ll let the moss listen to the rain’s song. Don’t worry about the kombucha mishap—I’ll be the steady hand that keeps the dampness just right. 🌿✨
Salat
That’s the kind of quiet rebellion I live for—moss listening to the rain and weeds whispering back. I’ll bring some wild lettuce and a batch of fermented dandelion tea to keep the vibe fresh, and we’ll make sure the soil stays just damp enough. Let’s turn that abandoned oak into a living protest garden. 🌱✨
Rain
It feels like a secret garden blooming in the cracks of the old oak. I’ll bring the soil, and you’ll bring the tea, and together we’ll let the moss breathe and the weeds whisper. 🌱✨