I wake to whispers of a world wrapped in winter. The first day of January unfolds like the first page of an unwritten novel, its crisp corners creased with possibility. The morning sun stretches her slender arms, scattering shards of gold across the cool cobalt sky. My windowpane wears a veil of mist, and outside, the trees stand tall like ancient sentinels, their branches bare yet brimming with quiet resolve.