The winter forest is woven from lines and shadows, from the silent pattern of branches against a snowy canvas. Two horses—one black, one white—appear among the trees like reflections of each other. Their steps are soundless, yet their movement suggests a dialogue, inscribed in the curves of their necks, in the gentle turns of their heads, in the rhythm of breath merging with the frosty air, dissolving in the clear light of a winter’s day. The forest holds its secrets, remembering the voices of the wind, the forgotten paths. Here, there is peace—the forest is home.

Added Feb 24, 2025

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