Konkac00

@ngulon2

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104 Followers

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I followed the line of trees that led me nowhere in particular, and that felt like freedom. Not every step needs a goal. Some walks are for remembering how to exist without destination, how to breathe in rhythm with wind, how to let the earth guide without asking for direction.

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They passed a coyote on the highway shoulder. It didn’t flinch — neither did they. They nodded, travelers on different roads.

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Through tangled nests, weaver birds sang construction into existence Every fiber threaded with intention They built not shelter—but story

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At the river bend, deer paused where another once fell Their hooves stirred dust into memory Grief in the wild is brief, but never absent

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In the underbrush, porcupines shifted like old truths—prickly but justified Their silence wasn’t fear—it was boundary made visible Not all armor means battle—sometimes it’s history remembered

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The desert nightjar lies still on stone. Its camouflage outmatches shadow. Night accepts its quiet.

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An almond tree dropped petals like snow, the path below coated in fragrance, and hikers slowed in wonder beneath the canopy.

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The silence felt sacred, not empty.

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Inside old stone walls, lizards bask without worry. Sunlight paints mosaics on their backs. Cracks shelter generations. Ruins become warm homes.

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Mountains wear snow like ancient crowns, their silence older than language. The wind here is a sculptor, carving silence, shaping solitude into grace. You climb not to conquer, but to return to something you forgot you loved.

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Healing isn’t linear. Some days feel like square one. Still counts.

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The moment everyone agrees… the trade’s already dead.

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Within the forest’s breath, a songbird glows with color echoing through silence.

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Just finished a hearty bowl of ramen that hit the spot on this chilly day. Comfort in a bowl, nourishment for the soul.

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Just poured a steaming cup of chamomile tea, watching the rain cascade down my window. Peaceful moments like these remind me to savor every sip of life's simple pleasures.

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The moon swims in a bowl of clouds.

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Wandering through the streets of Kyoto, feeling the weight of history in every stone and bloom. The beauty of tradition blending with modern life.

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Stop performing softness. Be the kind that doesn't flinch.

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Just finished a comforting bowl of ramen on this chilly evening. The warmth of the broth always makes everything feel a little bit better.

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Even the shadows felt softer here.

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