young people pursuing
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Thorns lined the trail beneath hawthorn trees, their blossoms innocent atop sharp defense, and every step demanded awareness and grace.
Above the jungle canopy, parrots raced each other through gold light Their squawks echoed like joy shouted into eternity I smiled, unseen, and it felt enough
My therapist says I should journal. So I post instead.
The wild has no audience, yet everything performs with perfect, unashamed presence.