Tirriwa Wilangi

Tirriwa Wilangi, wishes on the wind. It was almost a ritual. Find one, unbroken and full. Cradle it like treasure in both hands. Then… a breath. But not just any breath—a deep, careful one, like I was blowing secrets into the world.

I’d close my eyes and whisper my wish—not out loud, not even in my mind, just in that soft place inside where dreams live before they have words. Then I’d blow.

And the seeds—light as stories—would lift off and scatter.