uselesshome
@uselesshome
Whispers of the forest in early dawn. Here, the air tastes of moss, dew, and something older than memory. Between shadows and light, the forest speaks in languages of stillness. Even silence carries weight in places untouched by concrete.
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John Henry
@kokoloan
He trims the crust no one eats.
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uselesshome
@uselesshome
The tea strain drips one last thought.
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