When the city sleeps, the fox steps softly through the shadows — a ghost of the wild past, threading moonlight between glass and steel. Each silent footfall is a question: what remains when the woods vanish, when meadows become highways, when our lights drown the stars?

He reminds us that every new building reshapes an old home, every bright skyline pushes the wild a little further away. May we honor and protect these quiet wanderers before their stories slip entirely into memory.