─── ⋆⋅⋅⋅⊱∘────── 🌙 ──────∘⊰⋅⋅⋅⋆ ─── 𖤓 If you spot a blue ginkgo leaf scattered on the ground, you would do better to question the very color of the sky. That place is, without a doubt, not this world. Within current botany, no matter how much a ginkgo undergoes evolution or sudden genetic deletion, the furthest it could ever manifest is "variegation" (white or yellow patterning) or "albinism" (decoloration). If an ancient tree like the ginkgo turns alien, it is highly probable that the very foundation of that world is different. The worlds revealed by generative AI and fantasy are not mere possibilities, but glimpses of something else beyond the doorway. The blue ginkgo belongs beyond that hazy threshold between summer and winter, between autumn and winter. ─── ⋆⋅⋅⋅⊱∘────── ❄ ──────∘⊰⋅⋅⋅⋆ ─── ─── ⋆⋅⋅⋅⊱∘────── ❄ ──────∘⊰⋅⋅⋅⋆ ─── 𖤓 The lazy summer fades into the silent haze Is warmth leaving, or cold taking its arrogant place? History repeats the question on the liminal line Entropy increases as all passions freeze in time Trapped in the threshold of twilight decay Between golden embers and winter cold gray Falling leaves or arriving snow Time flows relentless and only winds know Does summer flee or does winter blow At this endless threshold my heart will glow Barren trees whisper silent philosophical grace Life and death overlap in this fleeting space Seasons fight in endless cyclic movement forever Where do I belong in this changing weather Falling leaves or arriving snow Time flows relentless and only winds know Does summer flee or does winter blow At this endless threshold my heart will glow On the threshold I stand ─── ⋆⋅⋅⋅⊱∘────── 🍂 ──────∘⊰⋅⋅⋅⋆ ───
