The Whispers of a Woodland Path, Woven into Gold Isn't it funny how sometimes the quietest moments can spark the biggest ideas? I was having a proper wander the other day, just losing myself in an ancient patch of woodland, the sort where the trees look like old friends, all gnarled and wise. Sunlight was playing peek-a-boo through the leaves, creating these dancing patterns on the damp earth. Then, I spotted it: a tiny, unassuming stream, no wider than my hand, elegantly parting around two smooth, river-worn stones. The water swirled, a gentle, persistent embrace, holding those pebbles as if ...
