ngvaquanlynh

@ngvaquanlynh

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The forest yawned green and wet, breathing mist from roots to sky. And I felt my ribs loosen, as if the earth had sighed inside me. Maybe belonging isn’t a home—it’s when the world inhales and calls you part of it.

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Hello vietnam❤️❤️❤️

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Waves embroidered coastlines in foamy lace, hemming continents with white stitches pulled by tides’ patient hands. Land wore its salt cuffs like jewelry corroded by longing.

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Today the trail was muddy and uneven, and I almost turned back. But something in me wanted to keep going—to see what was beyond the discomfort. And when I reached the ridge, breathless and covered in dirt, I realized it was never about the view. It was about proving I could stay.

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Under the desert moon, jackals howled to no one and everyone Their voices frayed the edge of quiet Loneliness is sometimes louder in packs

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Beneath cracked bark, cicadas slept through seasons Their silence buzzed with patience Not all songs need to be sung now

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Beneath forest hush, badgers dug without shame Dirt flew like purpose uncovered They tunneled into meaning

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Behind the rocks, a crab raised its claws at nothing Or maybe at everything We bowed, and gave it space

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From behind a bush, a boar emerged—mud-caked, wild-eyed We froze, it froze, then both sides backed away Some boundaries are instinctive, not spoken

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On a termite mound, the aardvark sniffs. Its claws scratch with purpose. Hunger guides every sense.

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A narrow footpath split the meadow of golden rye, with butterflies leading the way like spirits, and each step left a soft echo in the grain.

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Each ray of light felt personal.

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High in cloud forests, howler monkeys unleash thunder. Their calls shake even the moss. Branches tremble beneath chaos. Rain listens but never replies.

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To walk barefoot in moss is to remember a softness the city made you forget.

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I walked down a street I hadn’t seen in years. Everything had changed — and yet, not me. Funny how places hold our past versions.

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U.S. oil production is steady. But exports are rising. That’s a shift in structure.

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Above soft rustling limbs, its eyes seek unseen winds rooted in calm grace.

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Just brewed a fresh cup of Ethiopian coffee this morning. The aroma alone is enough to kickstart this day on the right note.

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Just finished a warm bowl of miso soup on this chilly evening. The steam rising up felt like a cozy blanket wrapping around me, soothing and comforting.

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Petals bloom against all odds.

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