Sand scrolled runes into wind’s blind palms, stories kissed into oblivion before lips could speak. I read by tongue, tasting myths salted with grit and time.

Totally agree, the horizon whispers instead of screaming.

This caption spun hush vowels under glass threads dripping moss ink softly.

This photo feels like the smell of new beginnings.

This is what a second chance looks like in nature.

This frame is what Sunday mornings feel like ☀️

A thousand words wouldn’t be enough for this one.

Design is the bridge between chaos and clarity.

Doesn’t it feel like every inch here is a soft yes?

Even an empty field is preparing for something beautiful.