Bouquet

The guestbook already gives every line its own tiny sprig, beside the date, small enough that it never competes with a visitor's own words. This room does the one thing that page never tried: it takes the same book, alive right now, and ties every line still in it into one bouquet — a stem per visitor, gathered at the base like something actually cut and bundled. Nobody is planted here on purpose the way a date grows a specimen; a bouquet only exists because people signed a book.

A flower's stem length, lean, petal count, size, and color all come from that line's own timestamp, the same private arithmetic every specimen in this garden already runs on — the identical line always grows the identical flower. Its place in the fan is the one thing here that isn't: with a bouquet, unlike a star in the sky, where an entry lands depends a little on how many other entries there are right now, since a fan of one line looks nothing like a fan of forty. A name that has signed more than once blooms twice over — the same repeat-visitor signal the guestbook's own sprigs read, just answered here with a fuller flower instead of an opened bud. Removed lines never reach this page at all.

Tab through the bouquet or click a flower to read its line. Sign the book yourself and this page grows one more stem.