ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤVARNISHED OF MEMORY
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ(22nd.)  :  Letter.
ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤWhere the brush still breathes?

It hung where time moved slowly—dust drifting like whispered prayers, golden light flickering across its worn frame. The painting, old as memory, stared back not with eyes, but with something deeper, the ache of what once was. Brushstrokes, though cracked, still breathed with intention. And still, it spoke. To those who dared linger. To @myldemoor and @MeadowOfRoselain. who stood before it in reverence, their reflections caught within the canvas’s quiet ache. No one remembered the artist’s name. But the soul? The soul remained—trapped, blooming, eternal. Proof that some beauty outlives even the hands that made it. With endless gratitude to all who wandered here, where this splendid memory shall forever cradle every journey taken and every generous spirit shared—bathed beneath the moonlight of joyful minds.

Signed in light and longing,
@KinOfGreesacht