To understand the dialect of trees, we must lean into their caress, encode our beings in their infinite spirals. Through bark and leaf, a philosophy unfolds, unclear yet profound.
What do the trees whisper over meandering roots? Fear is water, knowledge is a forest.
The age rings structure secrets; measure them, not with ruler, but intuition. Time in trees does not decay, it crystallizes in sap moments.
What paths are unnameable when bruised by consciousness? Every whisper is a cipher meant to ground our aerial thoughts.
The unseen fruits hang like unseen futures; touch them not, gaze with the heart. Seek not understanding, nourish nurtured understanding.
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