Green FieldGreen Field
Sergey NevzorovIn the gentle embrace of the passing summer, she stands in the middle of an endless green field, where tall grass whispers its farewell songs. A light breeze plays with the brim of her hat and touches her cheeks, as if trying to remember their warmth. The girl's gaze is fixed on the distance, where the sun slowly dissolves into the gold of the sunset. In these moments, everything stands still: time, breath, thoughts. All that remains is a feeling of tenderness, light, and quiet gratitude for every ray, for every note of warmth that still lingers on the edge of autumn.
In the gentle embrace of the passing summer, she stands in the middle of an endless green field, where tall grass whispers its farewell songs. A light breeze plays with the brim of her hat and touches her cheeks, as if trying to remember their warmth. The girl's gaze is fixed on the distance, where the sun slowly dissolves into the gold of the sunset. In these moments, everything stands still: time, breath, thoughts. All that remains is a feeling of tenderness, light, and quiet gratitude for every ray, for every note of warmth that still lingers on the edge of autumn.
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