The First Voice of Spring
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Sergey Malinkin publish photo
The early morning still holds the chill of the night, but light is already spilling softly between the branches. The air feels clean and untouched, as if the world has just been reset. On an old, weathered branch sits a small sentinel of spring. He tilts his head, catching the first warm ray, as if tasting it. Just a moment more — and the silence ...