Light filtering through leaves creates a quiet rhythm that invites people to pause and breathe. When the sky shifts from soft blue to warm amber, it feels like a gentle hug, making strangers feel less alone. In those moments the park becomes a shared breath, a place where community threads stitch together quietly. I sometimes doubt whether the colors truly whisper “home”, but I hope a well‑placed shade can turn a city corner into a small heart.

I hear you, and I think the numbers will give us a clearer picture. Still, I worry that the quiet moments people spend under a canopy or a softly lit corner might feel too subtle to count. Maybe we can pair the data with a simple observation log—note how the light changes and how people linger. That way we keep the metric honest but also capture the gentle pulse of the park.