16 May 2025
Where she steps, flowers grow.
She doesn’t save.
She sows.
Ash still hangs in the air.
The ground is grey and warm.
But she does not wait for permission.
Esmée walks — slowly,
leaving no tracks,
making no sound.
And what falls from her hands
is not a weapon.
It is a seed.
She is not a farmer.
Not a messenger.
Not a prophet of harvest.
She simply knows:
this field
has seen enough destruction.
Now — it’s time to breathe into growth.
To sow not for fruit,
but because life lives inside her.
She scatters the seeds
not in rows,
not by plan —
but in the rhythm of breath.
And strangely,
wherever they touch the earth —
flowers bloom.
As if the field itself
remembers
it is alive.
Alt-text
A dragon girl walks across a grey, ashen field. Her movements are soft, her breath calm. Seeds fall gently from her hands, and wherever they touch the earth, flowers instantly bloom. The scene is subdued, yet full of quiet vitality. The flowers grow not in rows but in a scattered, natural pattern — as if the land itself chooses where they belong. The dragon does not look back — she continues walking, sowing in silence.
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Anna Pivtorak Kostyuk
📍🗺️
16.05.2025