A flower breaks through concrete, is a metaphor, is nature, is beauty, is sadness. Plastic encapsulated in stone is a milestone. Finally, we are one. Concrete buildings covered in moss, overgrown, overpowered. A melancholic meeting. Nature heals wounds, man takes cover. Technology is a helping hand is an enemy. Chernobyl rising, radiation spiking. Who will win? Earthship to space. Wilderness dies in vain. Man survives, nature prevails. The edifice of technology is our religion, a manmade machine. Nature is technology, is nature. Will it end us, or will it save us from ourselves? We adapt, adopt and adventure into the jungle. AI is an art form—isn’t it? Nature emerges, diverges, and diverts, while it blooms, and swallows us whole. Saintly, it submerges us in a fluorescent light. We reject and revolt. Will we ever respond? Tracks of techno in lucid dreaming, we are awake in a nightmarish forest. Technology blooms.