This is not merely a statue — it is the stillness of truth made visible, a silence shaped by time, standing as a reminder of something far greater than the self.

The Buddha does not represent a god, but the profound stillness that lives within all beings — the stillness from which karma flows, guiding each moment with quiet, unfailing balance.

Inner peace is not something one can own. It is a state to return to, after all illusions of control have faded.

The universe does not bend to human will. Humanity moves within it. And at its heart lies not dominion, but harmony. Stillness. Grace.

Many seek meaning in noise and motion. But the truth waits in stillness — vast, enduring, and patient — reminding all that we are not here to conquer the universe,

but to remember how to belong to it.

Silence spreads like a wordless prayer. The lake breathes slowly, as time dissolves along the line where water meets sky. Nothing asks for haste.

There is an invisible dialogue between she and the horizon – a conversation that needs no sound, only presence. The tree, stripped of its leaves, understands. It bends with the wind but stands tall, holding secrets that winter cannot erase.

The bench is not just a place to rest but a space where thoughts drift lightly, dancing between what is and what once was. Solitude, here, does not weigh heavy. It spreads like light over the water, turning every absence into a poem.

At the lake’s edge, what feels missing becomes whole.

***

O silêncio se espalha como uma prece sem palavras. O lago respira devagar, enquanto o tempo se dissolve na linha onde a água encontra o céu. Nada pede pressa.

Há um diálogo invisível entre ela e o horizonte – uma conversa que não precisa de som, apenas de presença. A árvore, despida de folhas, entende. Ela se curva com o vento, mas permanece de pé, guardando segredos que o inverno não apaga.

O banco não é só um lugar de descanso, mas um espaço onde pensamentos flutuam leves, dançando entre o agora e o que já foi. A solidão, aqui, não pesa. Ela se espalha como luz sobre a água, transformando cada ausência em um poema.

Na margem do lago, o que falta se torna inteiro.

**

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