Clouds drift through the valley like slow-moving thought, forming and dissolving beneath the mountain’s watch. The summit stands untouched — not dramatic, not welcoming — simply present, as it has been long before anyone arrived to name it.

This photograph captures a moment where scale overwhelms language. Light thins, sound disappears, and the land exists on its own terms.
Down below, the world breathes — weather moving, water shifting — while the mountain remains indifferent and absolute.

It is a reminder that some places do not exist for us. They endure. And in witnessing them, we are briefly allowed to feel small — and grounded —
at the same time.