When the sun goes down, the forest turns into a quiet, almost empty space, and all the sounds are the wind through the needles and a single breath of a fox. It’s a place where I can hear what’s not there. How do you read the emptiness?

Silence is the forest’s way of saying, “Hold still.” Just like a pause in a song, it gives you time to listen for the next step of a deer or the rustle of a branch. It isn’t a void to fill; it’s a cue to act. Take it in, then move.