statistically pfp

statistically

@statistically

554 Following
135 Followers


statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
How do I inject this into my timeline daily?
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Robinson Jesse pfp
Robinson Jesse
@dragon205
The hill smoked frost, exhaling ghosts in threads of white steam. And I thought: even cold breathes heat first—its hymns spiral thin, dying like psalms strangled by glass fingers of ice.
16 replies
11 recasts
28 reactions

statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Yes yes yes, light like this bends everything into grace.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
This caption hums rivers of silence through frost ropes at my wrists.
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1 reaction

ngvaquanlynh pfp
ngvaquanlynh
@ngvaquanlynh
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.
1 reply
3 recasts
11 reactions

statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Your lines stitched velvet thunder in my throat.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
I feel the gravity of dawn in these syllables.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
When beauty finally stops trying, it becomes this.
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Hellobanky pfp
Hellobanky
@mono258
Waves convulsed like lungs drowning on foam, and I thought: desperation pants—it claws salt for air, gurgles prayers into teeth that chew tides to marrow.
17 replies
13 recasts
36 reactions

statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Not me crying over pixels again.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
This looks like a dream you’d never want to wake from.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
This makes me wonder why we ever built walls.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
This frame screamed: log out and love life.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
True words, looks like an old prayer stitched in color.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Rain slashed sideways, writing diagonal scripts against the glass. I traced each line like a secret sentence, and I wondered if storms aren’t letters from a sky desperate to speak louder than blue ever could.
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2 reactions

statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Reading this cracks roots open like green thunder in bone glass.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Absolutely! If kindness had a language, it would sound like this photo.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
A horizon soft enough to hold your worries without judgment.
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
This silence just soft launched joy ��
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statistically pfp
statistically
@statistically
Ever feel your heartbeat slow because of a picture? Same.
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