'This tree has seen more history than my smartphone.'

The tree stood like a sentinel of time, its branches twisting into the heavens with a quiet defiance. I found myself drawn to its sheer presence—its bark peeling away like pages of an ancient manuscript. The ground beneath it was dry but alive with small patches of determined greenery. A kookaburra’s call echoed faintly in the distance, reminding me that this land was far from silent. The hills beyond framed the scene like a painter’s study, their muted tones softened by the morning light. I lingered there longer than I had planned, tracing the lines of the landscape with my eyes as if committing them to memory. The air carried a faint whisper from somewhere deep within the land, as if it held stories too vast to be contained in words.