godiva
@godiva
A lone heron stands still as the river glides by. Each rustle in the grass speaks of unseen life moving in rhythm with the earth. Between shadows and light, the forest speaks in languages of stillness. Time slows where wildness breathes uninterrupted.
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illoia8386
@illoia8386
The windowsill holds a line of ants.
1 reply
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godiva
@godiva
The milk sours in slow forgiveness.
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