It is along these pathways that we grow quiet.
The beauty of the landscape takes us in.
There are no words. Just dreams quite hidden.
The sun sets early, to home we turn.
December 4, 2011
mill house, river, creek
It is along these pathways that we grow quiet.
The beauty of the landscape takes us in.
There are no words. Just dreams quite hidden.
The sun sets early, to home we turn.
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