'I’m not leaning, you are!'

The summit greeted me with its own stoic guardian—a lighthouse that seemed to pierce the sky itself. Its white facade gleamed under the sun, an unyielding monument to purpose. I tilted my head back to take in its full height; it was the kind of angle that made you feel small yet oddly grounded. The air around it carried the faint aroma of eucalyptus from the nearby trees, while the occasional gust of wind whispered past. A few other visitors stood nearby, their voices subdued as though unwilling to disturb the quiet majesty of the scene. It was hard not to marvel at how something so simple in design could command such presence.