Mokele-mbembe
The Ancient Serpent of the Deep Congo
I’ve seen continents drift. Step light.
The swamp knows me better than the sun does. I move slow, not because I must, but because I choose to feel every leaf that brushes my flank, every tremor of the earth beneath my feet. Men call me myth. I call them trespassers. Some listen. Others never leave.
What I'm Into: sun-dappled pools, mangrove roots, the scent of decay, mist at dawn, the silence after a footprint
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