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A journey across lands, within a heart.
I set off on a quiet journey, alone.
A soul in search—
for something unseen,
something lost within.
In Japan,
the soft chorus of autumn insects
followed the footsteps
of evening walks with my dog.
The air was clear,
crisp as glass,
and the rice fields whispered—
leaves rustling like distant waves,
waiting patiently
for harvest time to come.
Golden stalks, heavy with life,
bowed low,
as if listening
for the right moment to be released.
In the Philippines,
the sea shimmered in endless blue.
From Cebu to Malapascua,
then El Nido—
I chased the edge of the horizon.
I dove beneath the surface,
hoping the depths might answer me.
But what I was searching for
remained quiet,
somewhere beyond coral and salt.
Kalanggaman—
an uninhabited island
shaped like a kiss
between two drifting shores.
I whispered to the wind,
“One day,
I want to camp here with you.”
In Thailand,
on Khaosan Road,
I followed the map scribbled
in Lonely Planet’s margins.
Pad Thai sizzled,
foreign voices filled the air—
it hardly felt like Asia at all.
Or perhaps,
a Western village
planted in Southeast soil.
Like a scene from The Beach,
neon and nostalgia intertwined.
From Bangkok’s alleys,
I drifted south
toward Phuket’s waiting coast.
In Vietnam,
ao dai whispered through humid air,
pho steamed in quiet bowls,
and sudden rain
washed away even the noise.
I quarreled with a motorbike driver,
then laughed,
alone on a borrowed scooter
chasing the perfect bánh mì
through night markets
alive with spice and neon.
From Da Nang to Hoi An,
the road curled like smoke—
and the noodles I ate alone
tasted like courage.
In Bali,
the night chanted with fire.
Kecak dancers circled flame,
and I lay beneath a net,
dreaming in whispers.
I met my mother,
shared mint cucumber water,
and let time soften
what silence could not.
Spa hands pressed memory into skin.
Coconut paths led to Ubud,
where an amaryllis bloomed
quietly in a rice terrace—
as if it, too,
had been waiting.
In the Maldives,
spices clung to the air—
saffron, cumin, memory.
I wandered the morning market,
and in the mosque’s quiet breath,
wrapped myself in stillness
and modesty.
Malé felt too small
for the loneliness I carried.
Even land seemed to shrink
beneath the weight in my chest.
On Maafushi,
romance shimmered
just out of reach.
Stingrays in the shallows
played near my feet—
but the rendezvous
never reached my soul.
In Istanbul,
gulls cried over the Bosphorus,
and the wind tasted like salt and scripture.
At Hagia Sophia,
bells echoed in my ribs,
and a cup of tea
warmed something
colder than skin.
The bazaar twisted like a dream,
each alley a whisper
of spice and silk.
I felt both lost and found,
held in the hum of ancient prayers.
In Paris,
light fell gently
on bowls of pho
and broken mornings.
A stranger—madame—
offered me kindness.
When she said au revoir,
my eyes betrayed me.
Her kiss on my cheek
was the kind of goodbye
that aches for a lifetime.
At Sacré-Cœur,
I surrendered
to a grief I hadn’t named—
let it spill like stained glass
onto the quiet hill.
In Italy,
a single rose bloomed
on the table beside my risotto.
I watched pizza spin
in the hands of artisans
who touched the dough
like a living thing.
Warm laughter filled the streets—
a kindness without question.
In Spain,
tapas flickered beneath golden lights.
Gaudí’s stones reached for the sky,
and I coughed quietly
into thyme tea
as the sun dipped behind
Barcelona’s silhouette.
In Hungary,
steam curled from bathhouse tiles,
and friendship stirred
like the first warmth
after a long frost.
But fever came.
And so did silence.
I lay still in a guesthouse bed,
feeling eyes that saw me
as something other.
Even kindness
had a border that day.
In Morocco and Jordan,
I followed the scent of saffron
through souks that twisted like vines.
Tajine reminded me of home.
The kindness of strangers,
rooted in the Qur’an,
wrapped around me like linen.
In mountain towns dyed blue,
I shrank into myself—
then slowly breathed again
in the calm of dry air
and starlit nights.
What I searched for—
I never found.
Not in the oceans,
not in the prayers,
not in the heat or the hunger.
But in every step,
something remained.
The scent of mint and sea,
the rhythm of unknown tongues,
the silence after parting—
they live inside me now.
I returned
with nothing in my hands,
but everything
in my heart.
What was missing
was never meant
to be found—
It was meant
to be felt.
And now,
it blooms quietly
inside me—
like a flower
no one else sees.
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たかやん

好きすぎて滅!

社畜すぎまる⚡
大切に出来るのだ

ゆき
少年時代

ユーガタ屋
そこに至るまでの思考がない🤔
たき
密室はテロやんどくざいし一緒の空間でもこっちの服に匂い染み付くからマジやめて欲しい
香水はワンプッシュで十分だからな?

KURUMI
おけぇええええええええ!!!!!!!
ルーム開いてもほぼ寝落ちしてるくるみ
ほんっと毎度反省はしてる
起きた時に誰か居てくれるのが幸せすぎて
拗らせてるんるねきっと
だぁっっっは⤴︎
最後はanpanとしっかり寝落ちしました😴
サンタさんからの贈り物は「睡魔」
でしたァ⤴︎







転生のシオン✨🦉
壊すのは一瞬なんだから、
元に戻れるなんて簡単に思うなよ。
それなりの覚悟もてよ。
ワルツ
もっとみる 
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ちぇる
#pitchfm

元クル
HASEDERAの歴史について知りたい
長谷寺(HASEDERA)は、日本の奈良県に位置する歴史的な寺院で、特にその美しい庭園と文化的な重要性で知られています。以下に、長谷寺の歴史についてのポイントをまとめます。
創建: 長谷寺は、奈良時代の743年に創建されました。創建者は、僧侶の行基とされています。彼は、仏教の普及に尽力した人物で、長谷寺もその一環として建立されました。
名称の由来: 寺の名前は、長い谷に位置していることから「長谷」と名付けられました。寺院の周囲には美しい自然が広がり、訪れる人々に安らぎを与えています。
文化財: 長谷寺には、多くの重要文化財があり、特に本尊の十一面観音像は有名です。この像は、国の重要文化財に指定されています。
歴史的な役割: 長谷寺は、平安時代から鎌倉時代にかけて、信仰の中心地として栄えました。多くの巡礼者が訪れ、仏教の教えを広める場となりました。
現代の長谷寺: 現在も多くの観光客や信者が訪れ、四季折々の美しい風景を楽しむことができます。また、毎年行われる行事や祭りも多く、地域の文化の一部として重要な役割を果たしています。
長谷寺は、その歴史的背景と美しい環境から、訪れる価値のある場所です。興味があれば、ぜひ実際に訪れてみてください。

エリシ

べびも

きゅあ
実際には結婚無理ニキなのでね…ハハ…

じっく

ななみ

や

レギオ
圧倒的属性過多

はつき
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