Velvet and Brine

She has chosen this place where the land ends, settling on the cool, permanent stones of the jetty as the golden hour spills across the water. This is a moment of quiet sovereignty, a pause between the known green fields and the vast, unknowable blue. The butterflies on her velvet dress seem to stir in the fading light, tiny emblems of a transformation she feels gathering within herself. Like the pearls adorning her hair and ears, her thoughts are treasures brought up from a deep and private sea. Here, at the still point of the turning world, she listens not for a call, but to the rhythm of the waves and her own steady breath. The salt on the air is a clean, sharp promise. She is a part of this landscape—enduring as the rock, boundless as the ocean, and poised for flight.