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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 😊
0.00000000 BEE
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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