There’s a part of the Knysna forest where the ground holds quiet memories—not just of the grey giants that once roamed freely, but of something else entirely. Tracks appear where no one walks. Wreaths are found hanging where no hands should reach. And now and then, if you’re paying attention, the trees seem to lean toward something you can’t quite name. Not every story needs to be believed to be real.

🔱 @TartariaBritannica