He hadn’t come looking for anything specific—just stillness, maybe, or a break from the world’s constant hum. Now, standing at the river’s edge with binoculars in hand and a mountain breeze on his face, he realized he’d found more than quiet. Across the stream, a moose stood like a sentinel, unbothered by his presence. Overhead, a hawk soared between granite cliffs, riding the currents of clean, endless air. In that moment, the man understood the truth etched in the landscape around him: peace wasn’t something to chase—it waited here, patient and wild, for anyone willing to stop and see.
