Last Seen: Mar 2, 2024 @ 6:38pm 18MarUTC๐๐ก๐ ๐ญ๐ซ๐ข๐ฉ๐ฅ๐ ๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ง๐๐ ๐๐ฅ๐๐ฉ๐ก๐๐ง๐ญ๐ฌ ๐จ๐ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ง๐ง๐๐ซ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐ฅ๐ข๐ ๐ก๐ญ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ญ๐๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ๐ข๐ง๐ ๐ฌ๐ฎ๐ง ๐๐ง๐ ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐๐๐๐ ๐ข๐ญ ๐จ๐ง ๐ญ๐ก๐ ๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ๐๐ง๐ญ๐ข๐ ๐๐ซ๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ข๐๐ฌ ๐จ๐ ๐๐๐๐ค๐ฐ๐๐ญ๐๐ซ๐ฌ. The goblet of the invisible moon took water from it and made a strong kattan tea, while the smell of spice and steam from the trunks of the idukki dew mountains rose. Innocuous breeze melts in oleaginous gypsy soul pots of lakkam waterfalls. Green bearded trees are welcoming the butterscotch clouds to hug the never ending odyssey. One can only hear their naked breath talking to the vast palace of the skies. The gentleness of rain brings free kulfi hailstones from cumulonimbus palanquin.ย
๐he queen without a crown is echoing from the other side when mattupetty repairing her guitar strings borrowed from the webs of weaving spiders. The drops of water hanging in the leaf blades cwtch the auburn soil to hold the kiss for longer. Feel the harbinger of hope without a blanket in the chilling air venting out through the hill station. The ephimeral sunset is ready to accept your ochre sky of emotional doldrums. The mind should change here like pottery instead of broken glasses. ๐๐ ๐ฒ๐จ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐๐ง๐ญ ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐๐๐ฅ ๐๐จ๐ฅ๐ ๐ข๐ง๐ฌ๐ข๐๐, ๐ข๐ญ ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง๐๐ฏ๐ข๐ญ๐๐๐ฅ๐ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ ๐๐ญ ๐ฐ๐๐ญ ๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ๐ฌ๐ข๐๐. Why are we so late to realize that wild vines that spread across the legs are better than ropes around the neck?ย
๐he nature should be an indestructible temple. A worship place to experience the sound of birds, animals, leaves, flowers, rivers and the eternal rain. Does these contraction and relaxation of diaphragm being in love with the viridescent intervals of heartbeats before our specks of dust become airborne? ๐๐จ๐จ๐ซ๐ฌ ๐ข๐ง ๐ฎ๐ฌ ๐๐ซ๐ ๐ก๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐ญ๐จ ๐ญ๐ซ๐๐ฏ๐๐ฅ..๐ก๐ฎ๐ง๐ ๐ซ๐ฒ ๐๐ง๐จ๐ฎ๐ ๐ก ๐ญ๐จ ๐๐ฑ๐ฉ๐ฅ๐จ๐ซ๐. ๐๐ก๐ฒ ๐๐ข๐ ๐ฐ๐ข๐ญ๐ก๐จ๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ง๐จ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ง๐ ๐๐ซ๐จ๐ฆ ๐จ๐ฉ๐๐ช๐ฎ๐ ๐ซ๐จ๐จ๐ฆ๐ฌ?
There is a forest in the mountains away from the land of cannibals. There, I have an autumn girl and a tree to drop the greens on. O’ the magpie robins swinging on the golden banynan leaves, Did you know? Today, there are no dark violet butterfly flowers to seduce. The nights giggles like olent jasmines in the orbal LEDs. A festoon of light cruise over the serpentine petals. Is this shadow or bones? The crows get startled. A nest of macow fronds in the green periwinkles. A firewood cabin was made, slitting the throat of mango tree. Did the quench lost for you when hornbill rain crooning in woebegone? If I was born as termites in a mud hut, I might be able to help you always. Sati, you will not be reduced to ashes by the fire burning in the piles. Let the dead streams of eyes flow like your perennial rivers.
ยฉ๐ก๐ช๐ฑ๐พ๐ต