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[ardenwray]

Treehouse morning - Atlanta, GA

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Summer tastes like salt and lingers like a secret. Ocean air on sun-warmed skin, hair still damp hours after the tide lets go, carrying the sea home strand by strand. Some seasons never really leave you.

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[fiearth]

it will come back

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A melody wandered back to me tonight — thin as dust in sunlight, soft as a hand against a half-remembered shoulder. It sounded like late summer through an open window, like the quiet between two people who once knew each other perfectly.

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