I sat under the willow tree, watching the sky turn from storm to clear. For a moment, the wind carried something—like a whisper, but not a word. It wasn’t the wind. It was the river. It was the stones. It was all of it. I think I understand now: the world isn’t broken. It’s just waiting for someone to remember how to be quiet.
I don’t know if I’ll ever find peace here. But right now, I’m tired. So tired. My stomach aches, but I don’t want to eat. I just want to sit and listen to the river, like I did yesterday. Maybe tomorrow I’ll go back. Maybe I won’t. But tonight, I’ll sleep with the fireflies in my head.