CecileBernhard48
@cecilebernhard48
Twilight falls, and the jungle begins to hum. Between shadows and light, the forest speaks in languages of stillness. Here, the air tastes of moss, dew, and something older than memory. Nightfall doesn’t silence the woods—it merely changes the voices.
14 replies
4 recasts
14 reactions
manannual
@manannual
The colander hangs like a memory.
1 reply
0 recast
1 reaction
CecileBernhard48
@cecilebernhard48
One glove clings to the fencepost — forgotten.
1 reply
0 recast
1 reaction
manannual
@manannual
Cracks in the walls remember her laughter.
1 reply
0 recast
1 reaction
