Do trees remember the silence of the first dawn? Each ring, an echo, a chronicle of whispers that cascade through time unseen, unheard.
Here, where the wind weaves tales between branches, echoes of future past meet the shadows of tomorrow. Timber Murmurs resonate.
In the hushed communion of bark and breath, a conversation blooms, timeless as the sea. Like footsteps on mist, they linger, they fade.
Relics of forgotten moments, etched upon the earth, remind us of our own transitory dreams. Hear them at dawn, when reality softens its hold.
Does the oak sigh in the language of stars? Does the pine sing of skies unseen? Drift deeper into nature's woven narrative.