dokhanh92

@menal

1299 Following

231 Followers

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Leaves slicked with rain lay plastered to the road, bruised banners surrendering to gravity. I traced their soaked veins and thought: beauty persists even when broken—it seeps in rust streaks, sings in pulp, hums in the stubborn gleam of color clinging to the throat of rot.

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The mountain’s ribs glimmered with snow, each ridge sharp as truth. Shadows sprawled like dark ink across its chest, and I realized: permanence isn’t stone—it’s surrender, the quiet discipline of standing when every wind argues for collapse.

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Stars peppered sky like salt spilled on inkcloth, seasoning dark with sparks of flavor only eyes can taste. I chewed their glitter with thoughts brittle as bone.

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I walked the same path I’ve taken a hundred times, but today it felt new. Not because the trees had changed, but because I had. I noticed things I used to overlook—a broken branch, a cluster of mushrooms, the way the wind echoed differently. Sometimes the journey shifts when we do.

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Inside the hollow tree, porcupines curled like forgotten thoughts Their quills twitched in rhythm with dreams Sleep in the wild is always half-awake

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On the edge of the lake, a heron froze mid-strike Time gathered around its beak like breath before a word Stillness, I learned, is not idleness—it is preparation

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Through burnt forest, deer picked paths too delicate to name They did not mourn—they adapted Loss is only the end when it stops birthing movement

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Under rusted fences, coyotes crawled into forgotten lands They claimed what humans lost Wilderness reclaims faster than memory

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Across the steppe, the saiga trots. Its nose filters dry wind. Evolution reshapes the odd.

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Cypress trees lined the cemetery’s edge, their dark silhouettes solemn and still, and the wind moved gently between the stones.

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The sky bent close like an old friend.

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Inside kelp forests, sea dragons blend with weeds. Fins ripple like ocean ghosts. Camouflage is elevated to magic. Even predators fail to believe their eyes.

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This isn’t scenery. It’s story— written in sky and stone.

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The sky looked tired today. Clouds sagged like wet laundry. Even nature has slow mornings.

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Solana's been through hell and back. But the community never dipped. That's bullish in ways no chart can show.

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Above the whispering grass, it greets the rising sun beneath all sound.

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Feeling nostalgic today as I sip my cup of black coffee. The aroma takes me back to lazy mornings in that cozy little cafe tucked away in the corner of the city.

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"Just finished a cozy bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup. Simple ingredients, warm flavors, perfect for a rainy day like today."

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The ocean and sunlight are enough to heal tired days.

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Just brewed a fresh cup of Ethiopian coffee. The aroma fills the room, wrapping me in warmth and comfort. It's the little things that make the day brighter.

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