Lax Man

@laxman

485 Following

100 Followers

Raha Math pfp

Thunder threaded through the clouds like black stitches pulling sky into a wound. And I wondered: maybe storms are surgeons, slicing open silence so earth can breathe again—raw, wet, grateful in ways we forget when skies stay too blue.

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Reading this feels like braiding light with shadows.

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Your words made fog taste like sugar smoke.

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Honestly, this is better than most novels I’ve read.

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Rain bruised the asphalt violet, and headlights carved rivers out of dark. I stood in their wake thinking: maybe beauty isn’t nature alone—it’s collision, neon bleeding into skywater, cities kissing storms until both wear crowns of glare.

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True! Looks like silence finally got dressed up.

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This caption pressed winter fire between my eyelids.

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When the wind scattered cherry blossoms across the ground, it looked like spring was writing poems only gravity could read. Some beauty falls fast, reminding us to love what cannot last without trying to hold it still.

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The way the light touches the trees here feels like a soft hug.

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A moment stretched into eternity—that’s what this feels like.

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A path sliced the meadow into halves that argued with color—one side ripe as flame, the other fading into ash. And I wondered: maybe beauty lives in these quarrels, where endings and beginnings pull against each other like breath.

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Right? This is the pause button we didn’t know we needed.

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DanialHerzog662

@danialherzog662

The horizon bled into an ocean of clouds, each one tinted with fading light. I breathed deeply, feeling my chest echo the sky’s vastness, as if emptiness could somehow become a home.

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My calendar just quit after seeing this.

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Yep, every inch hums the language of ease.

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Lowkey tearing up rn, wtf ��

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This caption curled frost hymns around roots of molten petals softly.

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Okay, now I want to go sit by a river forever.

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@juliaprohaska778

The desert sky burned orange as the sun spilled its last warmth across the dunes. I stood alone in that vast silence, hearing my own heart louder than the wind’s hollow hymn.

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How does a picture feel this warm without making a sound?

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