Each leaf held a syllable, each branch a sentence. Travelers entering the forest spoke fluently in silence, understanding thoughts that weren’t their own. The trees adjusted their posture depending on who entered—curious scholars found knowledge, while the broken-hearted found comfort written in wind.
Roots That Remembered Every Step
Beneath the surface, roots curled around old words and unfinished thoughts. You could hear them if you stood still long enough, murmuring lullabies in forgotten tongues. People say if you lie down, the soil translates your last wish and sends it into the dark.
Some languages live inside us long before we ever speak.
Birds That Read Your Mind
The birds didn’t sing—they translated. Their sounds were echoes of nearby thoughts, filtered through feather and sky. A child once asked a bird where it learned its song, and it simply stared, knowing too much and too little all at once.
