The Monstera plant in such serendipitous breeze plays peekaboo with the scenery beyond.
Upon the coffee table, upon the reclaimed barn posts and planks, a Monstera plant takes its ease in gentle verdant cascades. And as I begin to relax, taking in its form, I imagine that each hole is a mouth that speaks as a different orchestral instrument, that the plant speaks in music.
Monstera plant, green poetry of the monster era, the era of returning protectors, speak to me of the beauty of random holes in the ether of tethered reality. Remind me that in these holes of spacetime can come the kind of protective beasts that every child dreams of, the dragons to whom creation is gold.
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