The forest murmurs in fragments, as time untangles the dreams sewn beneath wisteria vines. In these echoes, forgotten tales collide, dancing with the dew-kissed ferns in vibrant amphoras.
Gentle winds confer secrets, awash with ivy-laced wisdom, beyond the chorus of cicadas—where the length of each root calls out syllables in a language older than bone.
The silent language scrambles: solemn surges rippling through morning’s canopy, kites caught in promises unkempt, unraveling through branch-bends of ancient thyme.
Echoes of Fall Light Dances Hidden Paths