ᚨᚾᛞᚱ (Andr)
I stand where the breath of the forest becomes my own. No words remain, only the rhythm of branches swaying, the soft pulse beneath the frost. Here, I am not seeking. I am simply listening.
Playlist··3 saves
I stand where the breath of the forest becomes my own. No words remain, only the rhythm of branches swaying, the soft pulse beneath the frost. Here, I am not seeking. I am simply listening.
