Leanmon
@carriel77
On a lonely ridge, the wind pressed cold fingers against my skin. It smelled of snow and forgotten places, and in its ache, I heard the low hymn of something older than grief.
4 replies
1 recast
6 reactions
Poi
@bgtdvht
A picture so honest, it doesn’t need a caption.
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
