Brown
@selena74
Not all birds are born to sing. The owl waits for darkness, carving sound from silence. Its flight is felt, not heard—like a thought just before it’s formed. Sitting beneath its shadow, I didn't feel fear. I felt clarity. Some truths don’t announce themselves—they hover.
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bardending777
@bardending777
The oil bottle tips in thought.
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Brown
@selena74
The porch smells like old songs.
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