Wood.

The shortest way to a heart, cold and lonely

A path painted with the colour of fall

This tree tells a story of every beating season

Where is the glory

Many steps

Shadows

Everything will come together

In the end.

 

Every forest that i know

I count the rings

Somewhere in the middle

Bark

It is the truth.

 

 

◄ End of life.

Story. ►

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