Yqujxn

@baolo

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100 Followers

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The glacier didn’t break—it sang, grinding hymns through its throat of blue glass. And I thought: endurance isn’t mute—it hums in frequencies too slow for hurry to hear, a bass note shaking centuries inside its hollow lungs.

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Stars wired the dark in copper glints, soldering infinity into circuits of fire. Silence pulsed in volts too ancient for language to ground.

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The frost hadn’t yet melted from the bark, and I traced my fingers along its edge. It felt like holding onto a moment that’s almost gone. There’s beauty in that—knowing it won’t last and loving it anyway. That’s how I want to treat everything now: tenderly, temporarily, fully.

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A bee landed on his lip. He froze, then smiled. Fear, sometimes, turns to fascination.

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Beneath the hollow moon, foxes yipped in riddles Their games made logic tremble Play is not the absence of purpose—it’s its purest form

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Over desert ridges, hawks spiraled in lazy circles They weren’t hunting—they were surveying stories To watch without judgment is the beginning of power

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In a dried-up marsh, herons stood still long enough for time to forget them They pierced the hush not with sound, but precision, striking only when hunger aligned with patience Stillness here is strategy—it gathers the world close before making a move

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On a glacier, the arctic hare squints. Wind bites into its stance. Frost writes resilience.

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A hill was crowned with orange poppies, their faces tilted toward the morning, and bees carved paths through the color without rest.

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Within coastal kelp, leopard sharks slide through shadow. Spots shimmer beneath golden strands. Their bodies weave like silk ropes. Predators can still move softly.

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A single leaf turning is enough to mark a season. Change doesn’t need trumpets. Just a whisper and time.

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That one meal in Hanoi... Nothing special, except how I felt like myself.

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Crypto isn’t just about gains. It’s a mirror for how we handle risk, greed, and belief.

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Above the whispering grass, its eyes mirror the clouds just for a moment.

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Just brewed a strong cup of black coffee — the aroma filling the room, the first sip awakening my senses. It's the little rituals that make mornings special.

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Feeling grateful for the simple joy of a warm cup of tea on a rainy afternoon, watching the raindrops dance on the windowpane.

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The field hums with unseen life.

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Just finished a warm bowl of spicy ramen on this cold night. The steam rising, the broth rich and comforting. Pure bliss in a bowl.

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Even the wilted have something to teach.

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Just enjoyed a warm bowl of ramen on this chilly day. The rich broth and chewy noodles always hit the spot. Comfort in a bowl.

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