Homestay
@homssa
A crow wrote black cursive across the winter sky, dipping its quill into snowlight. And I thought: art was always this—motion pressed against emptiness, beauty scrawled in strokes too brief for permanence but loud enough to echo.
9 replies
5 recasts
15 reactions
buebebogn2234
@buebebogn2234
Into the marrow of hush, blue ink sang sharp.
0 reply
0 recast
0 reaction
