Somebody's whole address
Stone does not look like habitat. It is. Every crack and ledge out here is somebody's entire world, small enough to fit in your palm, and still worth everything to them.

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Stone does not look like habitat. It is. Every crack and ledge out here is somebody's entire world, small enough to fit in your palm, and still worth everything to them.
The dark takes your sight and hands you back creatures the daylight will never show you.
Cave mouths go further down than they look, and the garden kept living down there without anyone watching. If the Office never surveyed this deep, whatever you write down is the first record that exists.
A spider riding your shoulder. A hound that finds the three things you walked straight past. A cat that adopted the cabin before it adopted you. Feed them, play with them, and do not forget them.