A Season of Reflection,

A Season of Becoming.

There’s something about the way sunlight lingers in autumn. Longer shadows. Softer air. A quiet pause before the year exhales.

The stone walls are still warm from summer. But there’s a hush now in the wind, in her steps, in the sky that begins to soften. She walks with a quiet purpose, a camel beret pulled low, striped scarf curled gently at her neck, and around her wrist, a golden glint that catches the light like a memory catching fire.

Not to impress. Not for show. But as reminders of softness worn with strength, of the woman she’s becoming.

Autumn is not loud. It doesn’t shout for attention. And neither does she.

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