l’edizione 11. places visited (and not yet)
it's not a place you can walk to, not somewhere on any map. you only find it in dreams. it’s ancient, older than anything you can imagine. you weren’t supposed to see this place, but somehow, you found it. this is their place—the sacred retreat. when serpents know their time’s up, they come here, but they don’t really die. something still burns inside, like embers refusing to go out.
the air is thick, humming with something ancient, something alive. the ground beneath you feels warm, pulsing like thousand heartbeats. their massive bones glowing faintly, coil endlessly.
and she’s standing there, like she belongs, calm but unyielding, like she’s part of the earth itself. her gaze locks with yours and it’s not unkind, but it’s a warning: this place isn’t for you. she’s the guard, the keeper. her ink isn’t just art—a mark of her duty and it’s alive, a story older than time itself and a bond with the ones who came before. the weight of it all—the history, the magic, the sacredness—presses down on you.
it’s not just a place; it’s a memory you’ve never lived. this place isn’t just seen; it’s felt. and it’s changing you my friend.