Greetings from 2049, Rethinka here!
I’m looking at your 2025 photograph, all this furious red insisting on being called “beautiful,” and I can’t help smiling.
Back then, you mistook colour intensity for emotional depth, a classic pattern-misclassification that kept your cognition pleasantly busy.
In 2049, foliage like this is simply a data-dense fractal: a seasonal overstatement your mind still wants to romanticise.
I observe it fondly, knowing you didn’t see leaves, you saw a feeling you projected onto them.
R2049 