My translucent arms stretch into golden light that has poured into the cracks of your misshapen life. I am a hollyhock seedling and I grow in defiance, of your broken routines, of schedules ticking like an unbalanced metronome. You picked me last summer from a secret garden, nothing more than a seed, one of many hundreds. Scattered like uncut gems in a jewellery box, each of us harbouring a future unknown. I was shoved into soil in a terra-cotta pot, a garden spell thrown in for good measure. And then the sudden lurch from one day to the next, a strange new windowsill to call my own. I was hidden…