She walks alone, but there is no loneliness in it.
Leaves fall around her, as if time has decided to become visible.
Gold on the branches, gold underfoot, gold in the air, and in the midst of this light, a small figure, quiet, warm, alive.

She seems to be listening not to the park, but to her own thoughts.
And autumn is not sad here, it is gentle.
This is a picture of that state when you walk and are in no hurry to be someone else.