DamarisWiegand32
@damariswiegand32
Every tree I passed seemed to speak in its own language—one of waiting, of staying rooted, of enduring. I didn’t need to understand every word. Just being there, walking slowly, felt like reading a story written for the part of me that always hoped for rest without guilt.
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coherentrenla
@coherentrenla
This caption hums frost threads in molten dusk hush variation 114.
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