Przypuszczam, że wątpię.
Path Above the Clouds
A wind-carved ridge snakes toward the sky, its stony spine catching the midday light while copper grasses flicker at the edges. I paused here, breath pulled thin by altitude and awe alike, and let the silence rumble louder than any city street, just the crunch of gravel under boot and a single cloud casting a drifting shadow across distant, blue-washed valleys. The trail feels less like ground and more like a thread stitching earth to atmosphere; each step invites you farther into the open, where the horizon is wide enough to hold every unfinished dream.
Path Above the Clouds
A wind-carved ridge snakes toward the sky, its stony spine catching the midday light while copper grasses flicker at the edges. I paused here, breath pulled thin by altitude and awe alike, and let the silence rumble louder than any city street, just the crunch of gravel under boot and a single cloud casting a drifting shadow across distant, blue-washed valleys. The trail feels less like ground and more like a thread stitching earth to atmosphere; each step invites you farther into the open, where the horizon is wide enough to hold every unfinished dream.