Stories and Folklore on Nostr: Oh how I love crows; I love to caws they make; hearing them in the mornings ...
Oh how I love crows; I love to caws they make; hearing them in the mornings transports me back to my childhood.
When I hear a single crow calling from a naked tree in the dead of winter — it’s pure magic. It is the personification of the night magics and it tugs on my very heart strings.
#Crows
Published at
2024-01-14 18:40:32Event JSON
{
"id": "2c024dd42649963d079dffc30b922d2428a31ea0fb3f07697c8e260ef264ed17",
"pubkey": "b6f7d737fe70d1995a9437d6d9edea748c3fa7388528bf51d9e139c42e70d81c",
"created_at": 1705257632,
"kind": 1,
"tags": [
[
"t",
"crows"
],
[
"proxy",
"https://thefolklore.cafe/users/wihtlore/statuses/111755764209738744",
"activitypub"
]
],
"content": "Oh how I love crows; I love to caws they make; hearing them in the mornings transports me back to my childhood.\n\nWhen I hear a single crow calling from a naked tree in the dead of winter — it’s pure magic. It is the personification of the night magics and it tugs on my very heart strings. \n\n#Crows\n\nhttps://ams3.digitaloceanspaces.com/files-thefolklore-cafe/media_attachments/files/111/755/763/177/583/247/original/d7907a1fb42fed7e.png",
"sig": "f4b6a25be82a5a433342a111d1c1fc539499fd6438f038237c7d3542ec1f911e4968975ef943a0fc6a220c5d9f495646f246f83e3ace74aba7c14d75b2d59cd9"
}
