Isles of Rosea

One single seed.


This seed began to flourish. Flourish into a beautiful tree. A pink tree. It sways along the wandering wind, it reaches its arms up to the giant ocean above the clouds.


It stood on islands above thousands and thousands of feet of an unknown world. Nothing else was in sight except the eternal chase of the sun and moon--or the gaping void to an endless fall.


This place reminded me of something magical.


Structures began to rise; they were beautiful as if they were built by gods. In how many ways could these islands define indescribable beauty? The clouds that drift nearby were soft as cotton and white as the purest ivory. The gardens were so breathtaking, drops of water glided and shone like diamonds on every shrub.


This was the Isles of Rosea.

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