The sun seems to be saying, 'Look at me—I’m the main character!'

The sun hung low but still carried its full weight on the horizon. Its light spilled across the water like molten silver, dazzling and relentless. The skeletal trees stood defiant against this brilliance, their gnarled branches reaching skyward as if in protest or prayer. I felt small in this vast tableau—a mere observer to a scene that had likely played out for centuries before me. The air was warm but not heavy; it carried with it a faint scent of earth and water. I wondered what stories these trees could tell if they could speak. Perhaps they’d talk about the cycles of life and death they’ve witnessed or the whispers of birds that once nested within them. As I stood there, the stillness seemed to stretch time itself, making me question whether I was moving forward or simply standing still like the trees before me.