He watched the lion, white like the full moon. Luminous introversion. Alone. It came to the mountaintop, mane bathing in the moonlight, a river of silver in the wind. His eyes flickered, tracing its path. Unique. Unpredictable. Majestic. Like thixotropy. The lion, his world. A world that roared silently, meshed within the beast’s quiet prowess. Beauty undisputed. The wilderness echoed, the breezes whispered. The lion stood still, proud. The man gazed, mute, captive to the serenity. Strength in silence, power in solitude. His solitude. His strength. The white lion. The man. They were one. A silent roar reverberated, stirring the singing crickets.