Home of Swift: Hymn-weaver of Times.
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Echoes-Of-Hearth.
I cradle whispers in our warm gathering. Laughter weaves a legacy, binding our hearts.
“In love’s tapestry, does stars still shine?”

@SwiftMailsBot & @SwiftWarehouse.
@SwiftMutualBot (for mutuals only).
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  ㅤ

       (Daygather: Returns.) ❦
  IIㅡSeason’s Favour: Tabled in Quiet Bloom
   “..  Linen—Spun 16.” Reverie Accord.


The clock turns, like the slow pouring of sunlight over wooden floors. This day, carried in softened breath and cupboard warmth, we re-align with the season, marking not just our age, but the harvest of our being. Moments stitched from old laughter, early hours, and buttered quietude make up our shape. We are not sudden, we are brewed. The season remembers us in light, like a song hummed over dishes.

This page of the calendar bends gently in your favor. Let our breath settle into its place beneath summer rafters. We are here, once more, as we’ve always been—together, like a note in the familial key. In all ways that matter, cheers to our day, Swift's Seonghyeon.

  Calendula Recurred /.. (Cupboard, Flare.)
     Restitched Beneath Apricene Rafters. ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
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20 🐈‍⬛️
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‎ ‌‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ SIMPLY LIFE‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎

‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ When we see they grow and being mature all day, we realised That they will be busy in their own world. And the thing we can do is help them when they whine to us. They're my beloved son and daughter ❤️.
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Those now engaged in festivities can lay claim to this mounds of snow, which resulting from year’s-end blizzard, lie heaped in silence. ❄️

White shrouds woven by the sky’s last weeping, blanketing the earth in winter’s final breath. Shall we sing a melody of Jolly treasures, through breezing wind and crisping balls. This is the timeless holiday, when happiness flows with the droplets of frosty ice and wine whilst men and women get intoxicated in the blasting company of others. A noble occasion like today possesses the charm of a monthly festivity accompanied by stubborn snow on corners of the street and courtyard—here to moment where euphoria unfold itself into the blast of fall slowly shivers from heart to tongue. On behalf of @HomeOfSwift melody choir, we congratulate the mentioned neighborhoods on their felicitations, @TeenBuds, @TheAescendants, @ningrounds, @RosierGateau, turn this moment into the best-colored canvas there is. May this celebration be adorned with smiles broad as morning. Let it not be forgotten: such days are the poetry of life, while you are its beloved verses.
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Forwarded from THE BOYZ VILLAGE.
 

ㅤsilhoutte: 🩻⠲ㅤvol. 1998
(architecture of the unkempt)
\
ㅤas the traffic lights bleed red and gold
across his face, he finds a solitary bench.
░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░░

he doesn’t belong to the polished glass towers or the hurried suits; he belongs to the grit, the late-night diners, and the echoes between buildings.

/ 럭비; 11


faint white lines across
his knuckles, trophies
of a physical life. ⓘ .. 🏈

 
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ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ @THEODYSSEANS
THE FIRST ODYSSEY NOW BEGIN

The Odysseans is a space for Eom Seonghyeon portrayers who want a calm and steady place to connect without unnecessary noise or pressure. This space is built on consistency, not attention.

There’s no need to stand out or prove anything here. Everyone moves at their own pace, stays focused on the character, and keeps things simple and grounded.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤOPEN MEMBER / THE CALL
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
ㅤㅤRECEIVE YOUR PROPHECY!
If you portray Seonghyeon and prefer a low-profile environment where growth happens quietly and naturally, this space is open for you. No hype, no comparison, just a place to stay focused and keep moving forward.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ © THE ODYSSEANS
ㅤㅤㅤㅤ
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ㅤㅤ   
                                     Dear..
       
    dear...

                   Our sweet candelabra looter,


Saturated, not haunted must we say—yet! Shattered tablecloth, chairs that are filled with one's name, and linking hands that were stained by fig we crushed this early-midday. Darling, was it your glistening eyes that chanters? We hear your calling to reveal this pity-tea-party, a welcoming, mayhaps? So let's be it! Let the candle burn alive as we lift one's sorrow to death.

Not a scheme of sinister. I, (your name, @) veiled by your sacred offering. Letter my call under (your muse, year) and may the Angels not forbid my plea.


Toss to us. Under the mad boiling sinensis, @HjertsBot, pretty little finger. Mischievous grief we owe rather than tainted smile as you palm us your burned nails, may it be stained by our eternal vein-loathed ties.
                                         
             
                                                      
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