1 day déjà

Beneath every stage we get, anything old stirs.

The Planet isn't still. Nevertheless it might seem peaceful beneath our feet, it's living with movement — refined, strong, and eternal. The ground changes slowly in their slumber, rearranging continents like neglected questions, digging valleys with the quiet patience of centuries. Even the air over us — filled with wind, climate, and whispering clouds — is in regular activity, echoing the entire world below.

We often overlook that people stay on a world that remembers.

Beneath our cities and woods lay the remains of other sides — entire civilizations swallowed by time. The earth holds the bones of animals that roamed before history started, and the stones inform experiences in layers of sediment, stress, and ash. Each split in a canyon, each ripple in a fossilized layer, is a word in Earth's language — one we're just starting to translate.

Volcanoes aren't just fireplace — they are storage under pressure. Hills are not just steel — they're old upheaval built solid. Oceans aren't only Plant— they're history in action, swirling with neglected names.

And in the deepest places of the entire world, where number sunlight ever comes, living still thrives — blind fish in dark caves, bioluminescent creatures in abyssal trenches, mosses that develop on the bones of the dead. They're reminders that Planet is not merely a background for our existence — it's a full time income store, pulsing with mystery.

Actually the winds remember. They carry the dirt of deserts across oceans, depositing fragments of just one continent onto another. The rain that falls on your skin today could have when increased from a forgotten beach, or transferred within the ruins of cities extended vanished. The Earth does not overlook — it recycles, repurposes, retells.

Yet we, their people, move too quickly to notice.

We gentle shoots without viewing the previous types hidden beneath our feet. We build systems without remembering the roots they stay on. We title the stars, but overlook that the bottom beneath people can also be air — compressed, fallen, reborn. We speak of time as a range, but the World addresses in rounds: life, demise, corrosion, renewal.

You can find woods that grow on the bones of different forests. You can find seas that desire of oceans. You will find cliffs that also replicate with the roar of ancient beasts.

To stay barefoot on the ground would be to stay in the current presence of something far higher than ourselves — a being that's seen ice ages come and get, that has cradled empires and crushed them, that remains to turn in its gradual, unstoppable rhythm. The World does not require us. But we have never existed without it.

And so, if you hear tightly — when the entire world is calm, when the models rest — you might hear it: A low sound under the concrete. A Air in the wind. A memory mixing in the stone.

The World recalls itself. The problem is — may we