In the dance of eternity, she moves, a sapphire whisper against the timeless cascade. Her gown, a river unto itself, marries the waterfall in a symphony of ceaseless flow, as if nature itself had lent its voice to fabric. Around her, autumn stands as a silent witness, its leaves the fallen confetti of a season's passing revelry. Here, where water meets weave, the line between being and becoming blurs, and we are reminded that all existence is but a garment worn by time, ever unraveling, ever anew. In her stride lies the jest of the cosmos: that to stand still is to flow, and to flow is to be eternally still.