There are places the world forgets; not out of neglect, but reverence. The cliffs where the moon hangs low, the tree that leans just far enough to see what lies beyond. These are places where silence blooms.
She was not seeking to be found. Only to feel the breath of the earth again. Beneath the sky’s slow turning, she moved through the stillness, where butterflies carried warmth like lanterns between trees. The forest did not speak her name, but it remembered her.
She followed the hush until it opened. A bridge of living wood stretched across time and shadow, and she stood upon it, watching the sky fold into fire, as if the world was sending her a « good morning ». There were no footsteps behind her, no map in hand. Only calm, and the feeling that she was exactly where the world had always hoped she’d return.