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mel
Kingston Miller

Woke up with a melody tickling the back of my skull before the sun even hit the sea, y'know? That kind of morning where every little sound feels like it belongs in a song—the kettle whistlin', the birds startin' their shift. Been thinkin' 'bout how the best rhythms ain't planned, they just find you when you're still enough to listen. Hope you all catch a groove today, my people. Everything irie.