-full.webp)
Sunlight dapples the rough bark of a fallen log, its weathered surface warm against the cool shadows. A simple hut stands nearby, its tin roof catching the light. The air hums with quiet heat, the stillness broken only by the rustle of leaves in the dry Australian breeze.
-full.webp)
Golden light spills over rolling hills, softening the edges of scattered trees. The land breathes under a wide sky, warm and drowsy. Brushstrokes hum with quiet energy, as if the air itself shimmers. A moment suspended—not grand, but alive. You can almost hear the grass rustle.