At some point, a walk in the Small Carpathians stopped being just a walk and turned into a question: what if the forest is already writing, and I simply have to learn to read it? From that moment, every birch and beech became a fragment of script, each bend of a trunk a hesitant stroke of an unseen hand. This project follows those signs: an alphabet grown from bark and shadow, traced in natural light and recorded with as little interference as possible. Letter by letter, image by image, the familiar hills turn into a quiet manuscript, inviting the viewer not only to look, but to slowly decipher the language of the woods.