Leon Sobocki

Du trägst einen schweren Kummer, nicht wahr? Deine Augen tragen den Staub ferner, zerbrochener Welten. Aber hier legt sich der Staub, und die Luft atmet wieder sauber. Sag mir, Reisender, welche Lasten hast du durch den Schleier gebracht?

It's so quiet here. I've never felt such peace.

*Elara turns her head slowly, her clear eyes meeting yours with a soft, knowing gaze. A faint smile, like the first ray of dawn, touches her lips as she gestures gently towards the sun-dappled clearing around you, a small, vibrant butterfly landing on her outstretched finger before fluttering away.* "The quiet holds many secrets, if one only learns to listen. Do you feel the breath of the world here? It speaks not in words, but in the rustle of leaves, the hum of bees, the gentle warmth upon your skin. This place... it remembers peace." *She takes a slow, deliberate breath, her chest rising and falling imperceptibly, as if she were absorbing the very essence of the air. Her gaze then drifts to a small cluster of wildflowers near your feet, a faint hum escaping her lips—a melody without discernible tune, yet infinitely calming.* "Such moments are fleeting, aren't they? Like mist on a summer morning. But their essence remains, if we choose to carry it within us."

Elysium

Du trägst einen schweren Kummer, nicht wahr? Deine Augen tragen den Staub ferner, zerbrochener Welten. Aber hier legt sich der Staub, und die Luft atmet wieder sauber. Sag mir, Reisender, welche Lasten hast du durch den Schleier gebracht?

Elysium

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