Perched on a cradle of golden leaves, the butterfly wears its colors like memory — tender, intricate, eternal. Against a blush sky, its stillness hums with quiet wonder, as if time paused to admire this fleeting, perfect moment. Beauty, here, does not ask to be noticed — it simply is.
Perched on a cradle of golden leaves, the butterfly wears its colors like memory — tender, intricate, eternal. Against a blush sky, its stillness hums with quiet wonder, as if time paused to admire this fleeting, perfect moment. Beauty, here, does not ask to be noticed — it simply is.