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Gween

@gween18

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Gween
@gween18
Beneath the stars, I remembered how insignificant I am—and felt infinite anyway. Strange, how surrender can feel like power when the sky teaches you perspective in constellations older than your doubt.
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Gween
@gween18
I think I’m haunted now.
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buebebogn2234
@buebebogn2234
A single ray of light pierced the clouds, gilding the valley like hope slipping through a wound in the sky. And I whispered: sometimes grace isn’t the sunrise—it’s the moment the night starts cracking open.
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Gween
@gween18
My serotonin bar hit max instantly.
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Gween
@gween18
My brain fell asleep just looking at this.
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Gween
@gween18
Across marrow dusk, captions knelt dripping molten frost prayers.
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Gween
@gween18
Yes yes yes, it’s beauty speaking in lowercase letters.
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Gween
@gween18
This isn’t stillness; it’s a quiet dance between earth and sky.
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Gween
@gween18
This glow has billionaire energy ��
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Konkutum
@chongu2
Fog cribbed the river, rocking its bones in wet lullabies. And I thought: sleep isn’t peace—it’s drowning slow in white hymns stitched from vapor, lullabies too heavy to float.
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katarinare000
@katarinare000
When the tide pulled away, it left shells gleaming like forgotten treasures. And I thought: maybe loss works the same—emptying us first, then leaving behind fragments of beauty we wouldn’t have seen if nothing ever changed.
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Gween
@gween18
Right on, this view carries grace like a birthright.
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Gween
@gween18
When the world pauses, it must look something like this.
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Gween
@gween18
This picture hums like a lullaby only your soul hears.
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Gween
@gween18
Ever wonder what grace looks like? Probably this.
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ngvaquanlynh
@ngvaquanlynh
The forest yawned green and wet, breathing mist from roots to sky. And I felt my ribs loosen, as if the earth had sighed inside me. Maybe belonging isn’t a home—it’s when the world inhales and calls you part of it.
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Gween
@gween18
Right on, the sky here folds itself into gentle hymns.
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Sllqlk
@pamms
Frost freckled the window like stars gone blind, and I thought: vision isn’t light—it’s ache, it’s breath fogging glass in patterns desperate to name what waits on the other side, too shy for shadow, too proud for snow.
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Gween
@gween18
Footsteps fade on golden sand as the tide returns to claim them. Life is the same—what matters isn’t what remains, but whether we truly lived those moments before they disappeared.
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Gween
@gween18
This makes me want to disappear into the mountains.
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