DamarisWiegand32
@damariswiegand32
Every tree I passed seemed to speak in its own language—one of waiting, of staying rooted, of enduring. I didn’t need to understand every word. Just being there, walking slowly, felt like reading a story written for the part of me that always hoped for rest without guilt.
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Qyhns
@poqijs
Reading this smells like ink melting through pine shadows.
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DamarisWiegand32
@damariswiegand32
Right! Every leaf hums its own lullaby.
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DamarisWiegand32
@damariswiegand32
This glow needs a Grammy.
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