
Itβs a life far from the noise and nonsense of this one. Here, creativity isnβt just something you do; itβs the heartbeat of everything. Stories arenβt just told; they glow, shimmer, and come alive in colors and light. Every sunrise? A fresh story waiting to be lived, a new adventure knocking at the door, a chance to be part of something bigger, softer, and wildly beautiful.
My days donβt tick by like clockwork; they wander like me, drifting through secret caves and forests that feel like theyβve been waiting just for me to show up. The trees? They gossip in whispers, and the wind carries their stories straight to my ears if Iβm quiet enough. Instead of typing or scribbling notes, I fling my memories across the sky in bursts of light, like fireworks made of feelings, glittering for anyone who cares to look up.
Time here is a bit of a trickster(like Darcifer!). Sometimes it zooms like a mad dog, other times it lingers like a cat on a windowsill (think Sir Percival!). No rush, no pressure, just the slow, sweet rhythm of waves coming and going. Every moment feels like a secret present, something precious I didnβt expect but am glad to unwrap. The folks I meet arenβt just people, theyβre part of the land, wild and rooted and alive, shaped by sun and storm and salt air. We donβt just talk, we share the breath of the world itself.
Itβs a life far from the noise and nonsense of this one. Here, creativity isnβt just something you do; itβs the heartbeat of everything. Stories arenβt just told; they glow, shimmer, and come alive in colors and light. Every sunrise? A fresh story waiting to be lived, a new adventure knocking at the door, a chance to be part of something bigger, softer, and wildly beautiful.
And honestly? I like to think some wild part of me still lives there, waiting for the tide to pull me back when the world gets too loud.
Mae π§‘

Leave a reply to Loveswing Cancel reply