A girl in a soft floral dress sits among wildflowers at golden hour, her straw hat tilted just enough to catch the memory of the wind. She gazes across a glowing river toward a quiet village nestled in the arms of the valley, where the sun kisses rooftops and mountains alike. This moment is a prayer without words, a pause in the story where nothing needs to be fixed. It’s the serenity of watching light stretch across the land and feeling, deep in your chest, that something is coming. Something gentle. Something true. She waits for the sun to answer.