Thomas Bradley<p>Somewhere deep in the hollows, where the canopy thins and the wind walks ahead of you, the path splits like an old tale. This is where the forest listens—and remembers. In Appalachian folklore, these woods were never empty. <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23AppalachianMythos" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#AppalachianMythos</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23Folklore" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#Folklore</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23photography" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#photography</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23Path" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#Path</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23Lore" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#Lore</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23woods" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#woods</a> <a class="hashtag" href="https://bsky.app/search?q=%23landscape" rel="nofollow noopener" target="_blank">#landscape</a></p>