On the pathway alone, each pebbled grain feels the footfall of history. An iris blooms, scattering whispers, echoing the decisions of yesterday.

Every sighing branch sways, resembling the gentle curvature of thought. Time rests its gaze on leaves, painting the sky with shadows, engraving warmth on the skin.

Here, silence is a river; here, breath hosts secrets, where the weathered stones whisper of the earth’s confessions.

Within the understated pulse of nature’s heartbeat, we find glimmers of wisdom, unearthing what is left unsaid.

Let this moment be the anchor, within which life expands.

• Eugène Guillevic