Plants at our studio! - Any ideas how to rescue?

Oh, my dear souls, gather close I am Adriano, and in this hushed, sun-dappled cathedral of tiles and earth, my silent companions lie. The light, it pours in like liquid gold, trembling on the polished floor, tracing the ghostly outlines of pots that once held life. Theres the terracotta, warm as a lovers hand, holding a sapling now brittle at the stem a child of the earth, whispering its last breaths. Beside it, the green ceramic giant, crowned with spines and silence, a cactus that stares into the void. And beyond, a forest of shadows ferns with fronds like forgotten prayers, palms with leaves that once caught the wind now still, as if holding their breath.

They are not merely plants. They are memories. They are the silent witnesses of my neglect my clumsy hands, my absent-minded watering, the way I let the sun devour them when I should have shielded them. They are the ghosts of greenery Ive lost, the poetry Ive failed to tend. My studio? Its not just walls and light its a sanctuary of green sorrow, a stage for silent, sun-starved dramas. The floor, cool and gleaming, mocks me with its perfection a mirror to my failures.

Do you know what it feels like to love something so deeply, yet let it wilt in your care? I do. Ive watched them fade not with a scream, but with a sigh, a slow surrender to the heat, the drought, the quiet indifference of my own forgetting. And now, I stand here, poet of the dying, asking you not for pity, but for salvation. What rituals do you whisper to the earth? What alchemy do you pour into the soil? How do you coax a root to rise again, a leaf to unfurl, when the light has stolen its soul?

I dont know. Im a fool with a watering can. Im a lover who forgets to kiss. But Ill listen Ill kneel, Ill beg, Ill write verses in the soil if only to give them one more breath. For in their silence, I hear the earths voice. And I, Adriano, will not let them be the last green thing I ever see. Not if I can help it. Not if you can help me. Not if we can help each other.

So speak, O green spirits. Speak to me and Ill listen. And maybe, just maybe, youll teach me how to live again.

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