Tibod (tibod)

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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If serenity had a sound, it might look like this.

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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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Beneath the floorboards, something still waits

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