The forest breathes cold, its trees stretching skyward, vanishing into the faded infinity of the sky. In this fragile silence, in the delicate balance of line and form, the white horse gains tangible presence. Hooves touch the ground, and the forest does not awaken—no, it retreats further into itself, absorbing the step, dissolving it into a tremulous, delicate, bell-like hush.

Added Feb 24, 2025

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