In the early hours, the lake lay breathless, veiled in a hush of morning mist. Trees rose from the flooded landscape, their forms mirrored so perfectly that reflection and reality became indistinguishable. The rising sun filtered gently through the fog—not as a burst of light, but as a quiet exhale. Nothing moved, yet everything felt alive: the soft shimmer on water, the suspended silence, the warmth behind the cold. This was not a moment to be captured, but a moment to be entered—an invitation to stillness, to grace, to peace.