Beneath the surface of bark and beneath each whispered breeze, there's a language, secretive and unrehearsed. It's not always meant for us, but as we walk, each step holds an echo of a conversation far older than our own. Have you ever listened closely to a tree?
Imagine sitting at the foot of an ancient oak, its branches extending like arms in gentle gestures. The words spoken there are not words at all, but feelings, events intertwined with roots that dig deep into the soil's history. Here, the sky's hue is a language, too.
And while we may not speak the dialect of sap and shadow, there's a certain comfort in these invisible conversations. A word here, a glance there, and we feel the stories of the roots, the dreams of the leaves. It's a dance, really, invisible but profound.
If you're curious to explore further, venture to another lattice or return to the origami of the wind.