Nns (ihnnam)

There’s a corner of the woods where light always lingers a little longer. I don’t know why, but I wait for it. I sit there and let it find me. Some places are like that—not grand or famous, just faithful. That’s where I go to feel seen by something wordless.

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From the marrow of dusk blooms wind, licking hills into knives of sound. Grass splits hymns along its spine, and I crouch low, lungs salted sharp, knowing beauty never whispers—it claws syllables bright through ribs nailed against hunger’s jaw.

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On volcanic sands, snakes warmed like ancient runes Their bodies spelled caution, their movements poetry Heat writes its message in scale and stillness

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One leaf, one pause, one perfect second.

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