Pace

“Living” peace, not empty silence.
Under the warm arch of the rock, like beneath a hand shielding from the sun, the landscape stretches out slowly, breathing. The light does not dazzle: it caresses. Every layer of stone seems to settle into place without hurry, as if time here had learned gentleness.
And in that quiet, there is no stillness: there is subtle life. You can almost hear the high cry of raptors cutting through the clean air, far away, before silence returns—a full silence. In the folds of the terrain, attention drops: a soft rustle, the tiny feet of lizards on the warm rocks, a quick movement that does not disturb, but confirms that everything is exactly where it should be.
It is a window onto the vast that inspires no fear. It is a threshold of peace: the kind that comes when you stop seeking answers and are content simply to listen to the world.