In the dusk's tender embrace, the air thickened with whispers of ancient songs. Cartwheels spun on the edges of twilight, a silent dance that invited the brave to step beyond the known.
The sky, a painter's palette of fading orange and creeping blue, witnessed our initiation. Eyes closed, we felt the ground beneath us turn to liquid, the world flipping upside down in a kaleidoscope of colors.
Each cartwheel an emblem, carving arcs in the velvet of night. We played in silence, our laughter echoing in the spaces where words dared not tread.
Whispers Among Trees