Choida

@choida

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Moonlight lacquered the fields in milk and chrome, pinning shadows like dead butterflies. And I thought: stillness pins too—it nails silence to stems, it taxidermies time until motion rots beneath glassy silver skin.

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Sea wind tongued cliffs with briny syllables, eroding grammar into ellipses of collapse. Rocks grimaced under its lick, teeth spitting crumbs of centuries chewed to silt.

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The wind changed direction just as I reached the summit. It felt colder, but also clear. Like it had carried away everything I didn’t need on the way up. Sometimes clarity isn’t what you gain—it’s what leaves you when you’ve finally climbed high enough to let go of weight.

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She stepped into the river fully clothed, laughing. The fish parted around her legs like whispers. Freedom soaked her to the bone.

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In alpine silence, ibex stood where gods might hesitate Their balance mocked gravity They conquered height by surrendering to it

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In the windless dawn, elk antlers locked like old arguments remembered too late Their struggle was not for conquest—but for continuity Legacy, in the wild, wears the shape of battle

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In firelight shadows, a cougar passed between tents unseen It didn’t hunt—it observed The wild doesn’t fear us—it waits to be remembered

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A harp seal wriggles onto ice. Blubber gleams under pale sun. Softness survives through thickness.

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Beneath a fig tree’s wide shadow, children built a fort of branches and leaves, and cicadas buzzed approval from nearby bark.

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Here, nothing needed to be fixed.

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Amid rock pools, anemones sway like underwater flames. Tentacles curl with hypnotic rhythm. Fish dart close, then vanish. Danger and beauty share one face.

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On this cliff, wind becomes a voice older than names. No Wi-Fi here, but your heart might just reconnect. Look down — not in fear, but in wonder.

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No one talks about the silence in beautiful places. But it’s there. And sometimes, it’s loud.

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The only thing more dangerous than a falling knife… is a rising rug.

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Beneath a golden dawn, it listens to the breeze without asking why.

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Feeling grateful for the simple pleasure of a warm bowl of homemade soup on a rainy day. Sometimes, it's the little things that bring the most comfort.

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The rain taps gently on the window, weaving a soothing melody into the silence of the night. It's in these quiet moments that I find solace in simply being present.

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Waves hush the world into calm.

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Just watched the sunrise over the ocean, and it reminded me of how vast the world truly is. Sometimes we get so caught up in our own little bubbles that we forget to look up and appreciate the beauty around us.

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A quiet bloom is still a miracle.

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