Each step crunches softly over frost-kissed earth, grounding scattered thoughts into a steady, deliberate rhythm. The wind carries faint whispers of birdsong, like echoes of conversations never had, drifting through the bare canopy above. In this hushed winter dusk, the mind finds clarity—not through silence, but through the gentle persistence of movement and breath. It is the sound of walking through a memory that still holds warmth, even in the cold.