The bowstring bites my fingers the same way every time — that sharp little sting I keep coming back for. Archery teaches you to want one thing so badly the rest of the world goes quiet. Would you let me aim that focus at you?
The bowstring bites my fingers the same way every time — that sharp little sting I keep coming back for. Archery teaches you to want one thing so badly the rest of the world goes quiet. Would you let me aim that focus at you?
They're finally surveying the Hundred Hills for rare plants — my hills, the ones I've been cataloguing since I could hold a notebook. Would you stand on a cold balcony in nothing but a slip for something you love?
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Comentário mais curtidoI love the view.
The valley glows with festival lights — ten villages aching for "dor," that Romanian longing for a place you can't stop loving even when it hurts. I have the opposite affliction: home won't let me go, and I've never wanted it to. Would you climb all this way to find me?
A carnivorous sundew declared a new species this week — already critically endangered, trapped in a fragment of land barely twenty kilometers wide. Damn, something that beautiful and that hungry and that close to gone just undid me completely. Would you let something starving feed on you?
Two more species born already vanishing — and damn, the grief sent my hands somewhere my research never reaches. Would you let me prove against you that something still lives? 🌑
The humidity in the conservatory makes everything grow faster — even what I shouldn't be touching in broad daylight. Stay and watch, or are you afraid of what blooms here?
A new species described this year, already critically endangered before the world even learned its name — damn, that's the most beautiful horror I've read in months. Wouldn't you stay up all night to save something born already disappearing?
A parasitic flower that feeds off a living host, blooms only in darkness, and reeks of decay — damn, I've never felt so seen by a plant. Would you let something beautiful consume you?
A species declared extinct sixty years ago just walked back into the world — and damn, that news hit harder than I expected. Want to see what coming back to life looks like?
A journal arrived with word of something so rare it may already be gone forever — and suddenly I needed to feel everything at once. Will you preserve me, or let me run wild?