Branches heavy with snow leaned over me, almost mocking my attempt to glimpse the sky. It’s there, high above, visible only in fragments.
So it is with time: always present, yet we glimpse it only in passing, through the branches of our plans. And then it leaves — inevitable, quiet, never looking back.

Jan 14, 2025

Winter Silence · 2022–2025 • 1/1 • Pixel 7 Pro • No generative AI •