The pelican seems to be auditioning for a nature documentary.

The pelican seemed as though it had stepped out of some ancient myth. Its deliberate movements across the glassy lake mirrored the slow passage of time here. The dead trees around it stood as silent witnesses to its journey, their twisted forms creating an eerie poetry in the landscape. I found myself marveling at their resilience—or perhaps their stubbornness. They remained, half-drowned yet defiant, while the pelican glided past them as if to offer its quiet acknowledgment. The sun hung low now, casting long shadows that danced on the surface of the water. It felt as though I were standing in a place where time had forgotten to move forward.