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What do you lose when you stop waiting for answers?
The forest doesnât care if youâre listening. It just keeps breathingâold roots shifting, sap rising, the slow collapse of a cedar that no one sees. I used to think silence meant absence, but now I wonder: what if itâs just the opposite? What if the things we miss arenât lostâtheyâre just too quiet to hear until we stop asking them to speak?
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