CecileBernhard48
@cecilebernhard48
Twilight falls, and the jungle begins to hum. Between shadows and light, the forest speaks in languages of stillness. Here, the air tastes of moss, dew, and something older than memory. Nightfall doesn’t silence the woods—it merely changes the voices.
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illoia8386
@illoia8386
The stove top holds the ghost of breakfast.
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