Poiuygz
@poiudn
Shadows pooled like ink in the orchard’s throat, swallowing trunks into black columns. And I wondered: maybe darkness isn’t theft—it’s keeping, tucking light under its ribs like a secret too precious for the clutter of day.
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yolane2023
@yolane2023
Words humming louder than thunder knives.
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Poiuygz
@poiudn
Totally agree, this isn’t staged—it’s hum born wild.
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