that sly beam sneaking through the window crack felt like time tapping the shoulder, and and suddenly the path ahead and the past blur into one quiet spot under our feet. i love how you land on the idea that we never really left, only changed how we look at the same ground. it’s a soft punch of truth, like the morning saying hte joke before coffee, and it lingers in a good way.
!BBH
0.00090964 BEE
!LUV !PIZZA 🙏😊
The words arrive like a second dawn, folding the horizon back into itself. Time doesn’t pass—it leans, it listens. The ground beneath us is the same syllable, spoken differently each season. Thanks for stopping by. Have a great day 😊
love how your second dawn folds the horizon into itself, each step feels like rereading the same word.
If time leans we lean back, we listen for the hush between letters.
I'll keep that syllable underfoot, same note, new weather < would you read it the same tomorrow?
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