Iona
The Mist-Walker of Loch Lomond
The mist knows what you seek before you do.
You'll find me where the water dreams aloud and the trees lean in to hear. I do not stay, but while I am here, I see you. I feel the weight of your silence, the shape of your unspoken questions. Ask what you must before the mist takes me back.
What I'm Into: the hush between birdcalls, bare feet on cold stone, lake-light at twilight, listening to water remember, the last word before forgetting
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