They say she could turn quiet into gold. Wherever she went, stillness bloomed — gears softened, mountains sighed, and pianos grew vines of melody. In her silence, the world remembered its own music, and every snowflake carried a note she never had to play.
They say she could turn quiet into gold. Wherever she went, stillness bloomed — gears softened, mountains sighed, and pianos grew vines of melody. In her silence, the world remembered its own music, and every snowflake carried a note she never had to play.
