Sacred Boundaries

Stone worn smooth by time, cool beneath your fingertips, its surface softened by creeping moss and curling ivy. The air is damp and green, carrying the quiet sharpness of leaves—and the hidden bite of thorns. Rough vines twist along the edges, their points catching light like small warnings. Somewhere just beyond, the world feels held at a distance—kept where it belongs.

A threshold, not meant to be crossed, but honored.

Material: Boa constrictor shed