The piece isn't about beginning. It's about remembering a beginning you never had.

A single note, plucked, hangs in the silence like a dust mote in a cathedral. It shivers, then drops, finding its twin a fifth below. The guitar – not a voice, but a breath – begins to walk. Slowly. Barefoot on stone.

And the whole thing starts to fold in on itself, layer by layer, until only the first guitar remains, walking its barefoot circle. The bell's echo fades last.