Walruses move slowly into a wide open garden made of mirrors. The ground is smooth and bright. It reflects everything that touches it. The walruses are large and calm. Their bodies look heavy yet gentle. As they slide across the glass they seem unsure at first. Step by step they learn how to move in this new place.
Each walrus stops and looks ahead. A face looks back at them. It is their own face yet it feels new. The mirrors show many versions of the same being. Some look closer. Some look far away. Some look taller. Others look smaller. The walruses do not feel fear. They feel curiosity. They stare at these images as if they are old friends.
One walrus moves its head and makes a soft sound. The sound travels through the air. The mirror walrus moves too. It feels like a reply. Soon more sounds fill the space. Low hums and gentle calls rise and fall. The garden becomes full of quiet voices. Each voice feels different after it returns from the glass.
The walruses are not here to perform. They are here to think. In the ocean they swim with ease. In water they feel free. On land they move slow and careful. In this mirror garden they feel something new. They feel balance between two worlds. They learn how change can shape the self.
The mirrors do not grow plants. They do not hold soil. Yet this place still grows ideas. Every turn shows a new view. Every step brings a new thought. The walruses watch how one body can appear many ways. They learn that truth can shift with angle and light.
Some people might watch and try to study them. They might count teeth. They might track size. They might record sounds. They would see only the surface. They would miss the meaning. These walruses are sharing memories. They are recalling cold seas and deep dives. They are holding onto stories passed down through time.
The moon stays high as the meeting continues. The glass floor shines brighter. The walruses keep whispering. Each reflection changes the sound a little. What begins as one idea becomes many ideas. What begins as one shape becomes many shapes.
When the night grows quiet the walruses begin to leave. One by one they slide away. The garden returns to silence. The mirrors stand empty. Yet something remains. The space holds the echo of thought. It holds the idea that knowing yourself takes time. Sometimes it takes reflection. Sometimes it takes seeing yourself from more than one side.
