The closest to my hands. Stone, green and light, composed into a single breath. A private garden where every line was drawn to slow the people who live in it, to give them somewhere to land at the end of a day.
My largest canvas. Nature that feels like it was always there. Never placed, only revealed. Native planting carries the seasons; the architecture steps back and lets the ground speak.
High above the city. Green that learned to live with the wind. A rooftop composed for exposure, with resilient planting, sheltered pockets, and a horizon that becomes part of the design.
First frames are alive. The rest is on its way.
Still a secret. A feeling already exists. The garden is yet to be born.