No curated playlists. No matching sets. Just breath, gravel, and whatever mood the river’s in that day. Rio Park doesn’t care if I’m tired or torn open. It just lets me show up anyway.

You don’t realize you’ve fallen in love with a city until it starts loving you back. Not in dramatic, fireworks-over-the-river kind of ways, but in the slow, quiet details. In the routines. In the tiny nods of recognition that only come with time.