obsgif_: Enkidū

The sky did not collapse. It only fractured.

Colors shattered like messages sent without destination— blue burning at the edges, red dissolving into luminous dust.

Amid the detonation a single tree stands— unshaken, unvoiced, absorbing interference the way roots drink rain.

The wind carries fragments of spectrum, settling on green leaves that now reflect not light, but system error.

Still, it grows.

In a world split by signal, nature does not ask permission. It adapts— a silent algorithm rewriting itself within the glitch.