uselesshome
@uselesshome
Whispers of the forest in early dawn. Here, the air tastes of moss, dew, and something older than memory. Between shadows and light, the forest speaks in languages of stillness. Even silence carries weight in places untouched by concrete.
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cutethepink
@cutethepink
She watches the pot instead of the clock.
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uselesshome
@uselesshome
A sheep bleats at shadows.
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