Mapun
@mapun
Forests hold their breath when you enter, as if deciding whether you are guest, ghost, or something in between. Leaves sway in languages older than roads, and bark bears the fingerprints of wind and waiting. Walk slow. The path is watching too, curious to see who you become when no one else is around.
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Aogame
@mayou
This moment didn’t just pass—it stayed for tea.
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Mapun
@mapun
You didn’t chase meaning—you held it loosely.
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Mapun
@mapun
There’s light in how you approached the quiet.
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