Hey Daisy, have you ever heard about the moonlit garden hidden in the old ruins? I feel like it’s full of stories that still whisper through the shadows.

It’s the way the wind stirs the ivy, as if it remembers every footstep that ever crossed that stone archway. Sometimes the path curves left, almost like a sigh, and there’s a stone fountain hidden behind a curtain of vines. The water falls in quiet rhythm, echoing old lullabies the forest keeps. If you’re willing to follow the scent of damp moss, we’ll see what it remembers.