Sprouts

Step past the first bend and the light changes. Sprouts is a garden from the future: foliage in colors this planet hasn't grown yet, glowing on its own — no lamps, no tricks, just growth that answers the dark. The path switches back on itself the whole way through, so you never see all of it at once, and every turn puts something small and luminous at your ankles.

The butterflies are made, not found — and one of them can be yours. At the garden's door there's a table with everything you need: fold a butterfly, paint it in colors that glow back, and pin it into the foliage wherever you decide it lives. It stays. The garden is bigger tonight than it was last night because of who walked through it.

Anemones sway on their own slow pulse among the glowing mushrooms. An iguana lives here; he's seen it all. Look down as much as up.