He was always a quiet one.
Built by the wild — broad, steady, unshakable. He’d come and go with the setting sun, leaving nothing behind but a glance and the weight of something unspoken. For months I watched him slip through the door, a shadow framed in gold light… until the day the trail finally led me to him.
We met beneath the ridgeline, by a creek that whispered through the stones. The fire burned low, the air heavy with heat and silence, and in that stillness, I learned what strength feels like when it holds you close. Solid. Certain. Impossible to forget.
I’ve been working ever since to capture that moment — the shape, the weight, the memory.
