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ㅤㅤㅤ𓆸 —𝓓𝓪𝓲𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓥𝓲𝓸𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓲𝓼𝓽
/ ± .. { 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩 . 𝐗𝐕𝐈𝐈 } 𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓎 𝑜𝒻 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝒮𝓉𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈.the afternoon breeze dances along the balcony curtain. i sit near the window, holding the bow softly. the strings await their story. not of words, but of sound.
🎶 𖡼 𝅄 🎵 🎼 🎻𝄞 the notes flutter like birds returning home. i play not to impress, but to speak — for the things i cannot say aloud. the violin understands me. my fingers tremble, but the melody flows gently. it sings of longing, love, and peaceful solitude.
𓂃 ❝ this music is not just heard — it's felt. ❞𓈒 as the last note fades, i close my eyes and smile. even silence applauds.
