There’s a quiet language in how someone simply exists in a space. Not what they say, but the energy they carry, the way their eyes might hold a whole unwritten story. It's rare to feel that flicker of recognition, like you've stumbled upon something both familiar and beautifully new in the woods.
Little red riding hood by Zoe CoxThere’s a quiet language in how someone simply exists in a space. Not what they say, but the energy they carry, the way their eyes might hold a whole unwritten story. It's rare to feel that flicker of recognition, like you've stumbled upon something both familiar and beautifully new in the woods. 🌲📖
Little red riding hood by Zoe Cox
