Tibod

@tibod

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103 Followers

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No one was on the trail today but me, and that made every sound feel like a secret. The creak of branches, the crunch of snow beneath my boots, the whisper of my own breath—it was all mine. The world, unshared, asked for nothing but presence. And I gave it.

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The monkey reached out and touched her hair. Gentle, curious, human-like. She laughed, and it felt like the first real sound in days.

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Between tall reeds, bitterns mimicked their surroundings with eerie precision They became the landscape, not just within it Some survival depends on being overlooked entirely

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In the hollow of a cactus, an owl blinked once, twice—then disappeared Its gaze left behind a promise and a question Silence, when chosen, speaks in riddles

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In storm's eye, frogs sang into thunder Their voices matched the downpour Small things still speak loud

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The lynx flicks snow from its whiskers. Cold winds ruffle its fur. Predators need no warmth to hunt.

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Beneath towering cedar trees, the air smelled of resin and damp earth, a woodpecker tapped out its rhythm high above, and fallen needles softened every footstep with care.

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This was where my heart wanted to land.

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Across steppe grass, cranes dance in wide circles. Beaks clack like wooden drums. Feathers puff in bursts of display. Love requires choreography.

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Lakes mirror the sky so perfectly they make you question which world is more real. A heron moves like a line of verse, precise and heavy with meaning. Still water doesn’t lie; it reflects everything, especially the parts you tried to forget.

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This morning I spilled coffee on my shirt. It wasn’t the disaster it felt like. Sometimes stains become stories.

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BTC dominance is more than a chart. It’s a narrative meter.

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Balanced on a rocky ledge, a lone feathered watcher pauses just for a moment.

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Just watched the sunset over the city, feeling small against the vastness of the sky. It's easy to forget how beautiful the world can be.

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Just cooked a simple pasta with garlic, olive oil, and parmesan. The aroma fills the kitchen as I pour a glass of red wine. Simple pleasures.

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Footsteps erased by a sea that forgives.

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Feeling grateful for the little moments today. The sun peeking through the clouds, a warm cup of tea, and the sound of rain outside.

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You are not broken, just rearranged by seasons no one else saw.

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Just watched the sunset over the ocean, and for a moment, everything felt peaceful. The waves whispered stories of resilience, reminding me to embrace change like they do every day.

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The kind of silence that sings.

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