Observation
He stands still, rooted in the quiet, his silhouette merging with the fading light. His shoulders, broad like ancient bark, bear the weight of unseen years. His arms hang like weary branches, reaching, waiting, yet unnoticed by the world that walks past. The wind does not stir him, nor does the crowd. He is a tree among men—present, strong, but unseen, his voice lost in the rustle of fleeting moments.