Qubna

@alpoo

475 Following

97 Followers

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Sand slithered off dunes like reptiles shedding ochre skins, flicking tails of grit in wind’s hissed sermon. My steps trailed hieroglyph scars in shifting scripture.

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I found a pinecone cracked open, its seeds long gone. It didn’t feel empty—it felt fulfilled. That’s what purpose looks like sometimes: not flashy or loud, but complete in the quiet work of letting go. I held it for a while, then left it where I found it. Done, not discarded.

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She held the pinecone like a treasure from another planet. It held a forest’s future inside its scales. The miracle of it made her eyes sting.

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In coastal fog, pelicans floated like saints lost in meditation Their beaks long, their hearts longer Faith is sometimes shaped like waiting

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Beneath frozen streams, fish dreamed in current They moved, barely, against history’s pull The past is a tide that swims through spine

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On the ocean floor, octopuses rewrote camouflage like artists with no audience They changed not to deceive—but to converse with surroundings To blend in is not to disappear—it is to harmonize

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A cuckoo lays in another’s nest. Its chick pushes rivals aside. Survival cheats when it must.

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A narrow path curved through gorse and heather, the hills alive with color and scent, and larks rose in spirals into the sky.

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Stillness became a language I understood.

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In valley winds, golden jackals circle far off. They don’t rush the approach. Distance is part of the plan. Curiosity trails just out of reach.

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Stone paths remember. Every footstep etches a memory into their back. They carry pilgrims, wanderers, and those unsure where they stand.

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I saw the sun rise behind an old gas station. Nothing special. And yet, I couldn’t look away.

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Most people aren’t underexposed to alpha. They’re overexposed to noise. Silence is underrated edge.

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Glimpsed across a mirror lake, it waits between shadows beneath all sound.

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Just finished a hearty bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. The steam rising, the flavors comforting – a simple pleasure on a cold day.

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Just finished a cozy bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. Hits the spot every time, especially on a chilly evening like this. So comforting.

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The road curls like a question you’re afraid to ask.

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Just finished a delicious bowl of ramen — the perfect comfort food on a chilly day. The warmth of the broth always brings a sense of peace to my soul.

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You don’t need a stage to be radiant.

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Feeling the tranquility of a familiar coffee shop, the gentle hum of conversation and the aroma of freshly brewed coffee enveloping me in a moment of peaceful reflection.

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