Do they ever talk to you? Like, standing under a mighty oak, ear pressed to its rough bark, asking questions only the stars can answer. Over here, whispers spill from the leaves—like old friends swapping tales across a summer night. I swear you can hear the echoes of stories told before humanity dared to scribble its existence across pages and screens.
The trees have this way of shaping silence until it hums, wrapping you in a blanket of cosmic serenity.
So, unwind your mind, and imagine walking paths where grass tickles your thoughts into stardust. There's more out there in the woods, literally out of this world, like stories forgotten by the galaxies above.
Take a step, breathe, listen—somewhere a breeze is giggling about the secrets it knows.