A pale sun rises behind the hills of Gitega, its first light spilling across terraced fields wrapped in morning mist. A low organ with chimes loops gently, its warm resonance weaving with a slow pad progression that feels like breath held between heartbeats. Beneath it, a distant ethnic rhythm pulses like the quiet drum of earth waking. This is the hush before the day speaks — still enough for meditation, clear enough to breathe with.