I stand here quiet, back against the old cracked house, face turned to that big red sun. My white shirt is worn and dirty, but I’m not hiding anything. Those bright red leaves are burning, like they refuse to fade away. They remind me that even in this broken place, beauty still finds a way to show up. I’m not running. I’m just standing, looking. The sun is loud, the leaves are loud, but my shadow stays calm. This is how life goes, a little broken, a little shining, but still here.