Some paths aren’t meant to be followed—only felt.
The light didn’t fall so much as it arrived—quietly, like something remembering where it had once been. It filtered through the trees and rested on the ground with a softness that didn’t seek attention. There was no urgency, no spectacle. Just light, shadow, and the space in between, agreeing to share the silence.
I didn’t press the shutter to capture what I saw. I pressed it to acknowledge something I couldn’t name.
Some paths don’t lead anywhere. They simply appear. And if you’re still enough, they might let you pass through—not as a traveler, but as a witness.
