Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: no head, no ego. Not a whisper of judgment
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: it moves through you like the tide through sand, insistent, ancient, whole
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: you stand there, caught in The Between, the space where memory ebbs
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: you feel it, don’t you. That trembling, that soft whisper of more—
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: It’s the softening, the moment you stop pushing against the world, when the fight bleeds out of you like ink in water
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: this world is a vast unwritten canvas, and you are the brush, the ink, the dreamer—
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: Autumn slips in, unbound and timeless
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: the weight of thought sits cool in the palm, an unworked stone, its edges rough with promise
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: what was it that slipped away in the quiet between glances— as if the air itself once held something holy, and let it go
Bᴏᴜᴅɪᴄᴄᴀ's gone country ..back soon!: when the air clears, there is no victory, nor loss, only the quiet knowing this was the place you chose to stand