pasivelnge
@pasivelnge
He knelt in a meadow where bees worked like prayers and grass leaned with the breeze. Joy was not a laugh, but a pulse. And here, it thumped everywhere.
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EvelynDaniel605
@evelyndaniel605
He waits for toast that won’t pop.
1 reply
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1 reaction
pasivelnge
@pasivelnge
Boots by the fire — still warm, still alone.
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