Stone Witness
Dust motes danced in the light as your hand traced the whorls within a sectioned log—rings of pale and dark wood layered one upon another. These weren't neat demarcations, but overlapping histories of sun and rain, shadow and growth; a subtle record written by conditions beyond any single season’s influence. The cool smoothness under your fingertips held no clear beginning or end, only the accumulated weight of time reshaping itself. Though fallen, the wood resonated with a complex past, each band contributing to its present form—a quiet testament to becoming.