Day 47

Fascinating process: book making.
In my world we use trees, like you, but we don't cut them down and harvest them.
We tell stories to the seeds, then plant them.
Each day when they are watered, we repeat the story.
Our gardeners are masters of recollection.
Each tree is told a story, and as it grows more and more, so too is more story told to it.
This is much the same with other plant life. However, they are much smaller and younger, so theirs are shorter.
Flowers often offer short verses, and poems. Often with a delightful tone or tune.
A patch of flowers can be taught a brief piece of music, wherein they sing as a chorus.
Oh and vines! They are wonderful to encounter; due to size and weaving ways, you have to follow them along their length. These are best kept for riddles or jokes, because you must travel for the punchline.
But it is trees that hold our greatest stories.
It can take many visits before you hear a tale in full.
But it is worth it. For as the life grows, so to do these works.
The grander the tree, the greater the story, because no one could bare cut either short, so the tree has had more time to grow. And with it, the story it is telling.
Every garden is a collection. Each forest is a library.
It is not so far a leap in understanding. Every life already has a story.
Now every story has a life.