Blooper

30 sec. At first, there is nothing but pencil lines and silence. A fox sleeps beneath the tree with the cross, forgotten, almost faded into oblivion. Then a light falls, remembering where it belongs. Not loudly, not with great force. Just a spark that refuses to die. And slowly, you begin to understand: the fire was never gone. It was only waiting for someone to look again. Waiting for a gaze to breathe color back into grey lines. For a drawing to become a world. For memories to come alive once more. Far below, in the valley, a thousand lights glow, each one a thought that never died. Each one a story someone chose to hold on to. The fox gazes down and knows: nothing that was truly loved is ever lost. It simply waits to be remembered again.