The Gilded Echo in the Silent Garden

in #photography7 hours ago

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(Effect by DeepArtEffects)

The air in the afternoon always tastes of cedar and damp stone, a cool mist clinging to the surface of the dark, reflective pond. I am standing on the mossy bank, watching the golden koi drift like fallen leaves beneath the water’s surface. The small, ornate pavilion in the center glows with a soft, internal warmth, its gilded roof catching a light that doesn’t seem to come from the overcast sky. Everything is silent, save for the rhythmic, distant chime of a bell that feels more like a heartbeat than a sound.

There is a profound sense of "home" in this place, though I’ve never lived here. I recognize the way the pine branches bow toward the water, as if whispering secrets to the stone lanterns. In the home, I am waiting for someone—a mentor or an old friend whose name sits just on the tip of my tongue. The temple in the background stands as a silent witness to a conversation I can almost remember, a memory of a summer afternoon spent in quiet contemplation before the world became so loud.

As the day begins to fade, the ripples on the water expand, blurring the reflection of the golden roof until it becomes a shimmering haze. I feel a gentle tug of longing, a desire to stay just a moment longer in the stillness of the garden. The scent of pine lingers even as the temple walls dissolve into the morning light of the waking world. I wake up with the lingering impression of peace, carrying the weight of a beautiful, borrowed history that belongs only to me.

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