DIGITAL

Moisture.

Moisture is the old magic, the unseen hand that strokes the skin of the earth before dawn. It floats in the valleys and clings to the woods, weaving gossamer threads between the trees. Through this veil, colors soften into dreams — emeralds dulled to moss, golds whispered into gray. The forest hums under its weight, a low song heard only by the roots and the restless spirits that wander before morning breaks. Here, every droplet is a portal, every bead a memory caught between worlds, shimmering just out of reach.