Structures

— he didn't sweep autumn away, he dressed it in lace and ice and called it beautiful

— ages of stories were etched into its skin

— silky, smooth and deceptively inviting — yet despite the language it speaks, the frogs know better

— green had a story to tell, and used every shade available

— thousands of connections, and not a single conversation left to carry

— one hundred strangers, their fingers became the face of the city

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