In the garden, petals retracted into buds, leaves curled backwards, and everything began in reverse. The sunlight didn’t fade—it grew back, slowly returning to its source, pulling the dark away. Visitors came to see the strange reversal, to witness the beginning that felt more like an end. They’d sit and watch as the sun unfolded itself into the horizon, setting with all the anticipation of dawn. But in this garden, time never quite stayed in place.
Time doesn’t always move forward. Sometimes it bends, folds, and runs the other way.
The Trees That Forgot How to Grow Up
The trees didn’t climb toward the sky. They bent and twisted towards the earth instead, roots reaching up, pulling the ground into their trunks. It was as if they wanted to undo themselves, to retrace their steps back to where they began. There were no leaves—only roots, exposed and wide. In this garden, the trees knew what it meant to grow backwards, to return to a time before they were ever planted.
The Flowers That Never Wilted
They bloomed, but never wilted, never lost their color. Each petal was perpetually new, untouched by the passing days. Visitors often tried to pick them, only to find their fingers brushed against petals that didn’t fall. The flowers were stubborn, refusing to let go, refusing to fade. “Why won’t you die?” a young man asked once, and the flowers whispered back, “We never lived, not really.”
