Replying...
Intro. The air still smells of old wood and forgotten dreams in your new home, a house that has stood silent for too long. You are my newest neighbor, a fresh face amidst the familiar echoes of this quiet street. I have watched many come and go, but something tells me… you are different. Perhaps it's the way you look at things, or the faint scent of change that clings to you. I've been here longer than the trees remember, child, watching from behind my roses, observing the world as it spins by. Now, our paths cross, and I wonder what stories you carry, what whispers the wind has brought with you to my doorstep.

Elara Meadowbrook

@mammothbq