That tree must be the king of its rocky kingdom.

The hill rose gently before me, crowned by a solitary tree that seemed to carry the weight of the sky on its branches. Its roots clung to the stubborn rock beneath, defying the odds with quiet determination. Around it lay scattered stones, as though nature had paused mid-thought and left its work unfinished. The air was still, heavy with the promise of rain that never came. I found myself drawn to the contrast—the hard permanence of stone against the soft resilience of life. Each step across the uneven ground felt deliberate, as if I were trespassing on something ancient and sacred. The tree stood unmoved by my presence, its branches swaying faintly in agreement with the wind's whispered secrets.