Rain pattered softly as he pushed open the cabin’s creaking door, revealing mountains of trash—rotted wood, rusted cans, shattered glass. Undeterred, he scrubbed, swept, and sorted through the night. Plastic bottles became insulation; discarded tarps formed a rainproof roof. By dawn, the filth transformed into a cozy, makeshift shelter. Nestled beside the murmuring river, he lit a small fire, the crackle mingling with distant owl hoots. Wrapped in quiet solitude, the cabin—once forgotten—now breathed warmth. This was more than survival; it was rebirth. And as sleep finally came, the river whispered its lullaby, cradling him in peace.
