Where the wild Roses grow

Imagin a place, barely someone enters. Huge walls, unattractive to spy whats behind them.

Secretly, exactly there, where we don't expect much beauty, lies something absolut magical.

Beauty with an edge

Somewhere in Europe there is a house, unique in it's architecture and details carved in stone. Discreet, by no means megalomaniac. Rather charming, like an inviting poem, than terrifyingly reverent.

The owner disappeared after the husband left her. He couldn't endure her beauty marks.

Because the house had been uninhabited for some time, nature was slowly reclaiming every piece. The aisles of the gardens grew wildly decorated with the most varied shapes and colors of leaves and flowers.

Secretly magical

This place had it's very own laws of time, as we humans usually know them. Everything seemed to be going on harmoniously, never hectically. The goal of this place was respectful growth of one's own kind.

One morning something was different. You could observe spiders that didn't disappear quickly enough into a solid wall. They were the only ones who found a way through, as the wall seemed impregnable. Unusual noises were going on behind it....

If you looked through a tiny gap, you could see a dense gray sea of thorns. This place really didn't look inviting as you knew you would get badly hurt if you walked into those branches.

When the wind began to dance with the sun, something extraordinarily beautiful glittered that sparked curiosity to be close to what caused it. Sounds disturbed the admiration and sparked another curiosity. What was going on there?