"Within the sighing winds, secrets bloom silently."
Adorned with cries that fold into the depths of nocturnal shrubs, the woods wear their ancient whispers as gems lost to time. Trees are clad in shadows, whose eyes glisten with tongues of night. Here lies the arboreal orchestra, conducting symphonies in rusted whispers. Harmonies bless the wound and mischief heals the traveler's maze.
All around the circular paths, drink from the elixir of starlit dew; anoint yourself in mirrored secrets and intertwine with fleeting ghosts that leave Trinidad traces upon barren acorns.
Mycelium Secrets