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.
17 replies
11 recasts
32 reactions
Rolfson34
@theowan12
Prayers crawled like blue smoke through shattered dusk.
0 reply
0 recast
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