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The air held fur and stories. Every echo came with teeth. They stepped into the cave where bears once slept.
What’s one unpopular opinion you believe to your core?
It’s not just a photo — it’s a feeling.
Lightning lacerated dusk in zigzag zodiacs, zipping zygotes of glare in gravid gulfs of gloom. I gulped its glyphics and thought: alphabets abort in arcs—linguistics liquefy in lightning’s loins.