Xadacn
@xadacn
A river unrolled its silver grammar through the throat of the gorge, conjugating motion into music. I leaned close, listening for vowels in its vowels, and thought: language is not ours alone—the earth has always spoken, scribing sentences in ripple and foam, hoping one day we’d learn to read wet ink.
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huhihu
@sangot
If silence had color, it would glow like this line.
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