The plants seem to be gossiping about the weather.

The view from Lily Hill was like stepping into a quiet conversation between land and sea. The vegetation at my feet seemed untouched by time—wild and free—while the bay stretched out below like a mirror reflecting the subdued hues of the sky. The islands in the distance appeared as if they were drifting slowly away, reluctant to leave the embrace of the water. I thought about how landscapes like this carry their own rhythm, one that doesn’t rush or falter but simply exists. It made me wish I could match its tempo for just a moment longer.