Crossing.

An icy wind blows across the deserted asphalt plain of the highway, while the night, with its inky black blanket, shrouds everything in darkness. It is exactly 3:00 a.m., and the usual cacophony of engines has been reduced to the sporadic murmur of passing vehicles. In the middle of this still, stylish landscape, an unidentified rodent — neither mole nor rat, but something in between — cautiously creeps from the verge to the center of the road.

Imagine the animal lifting its front paws, soft cushions against the cool asphalt. Each point of contact is slowed down as if time itself has been frozen. The snout, short and blunt, quivers with each breath, smelling the cold scent of burnt brakes and wet leaves. The eyes gleam, dark and inscrutable, as the headlights of an approaching car slide over its back like searchlights.

In this slow-motion passing of a living shadow, a gray ballet unfolds. The ridges of the road are palpable under its feet, and every muscle movement of the creature seems like a measured survival exercise. The sky above stretches out like a solid, unfathomable canvas in which only the flashing red light of brake lights casts shadows of shame.

Under the flash of headlights, its rough fur reflects on the asphalt, one moment frozen in a golden sliver of light, the next swallowed up by shadow. This creature is no playful cripple but a Farouche survival artist, driven by instinct and an unyielding will to reach the other side. Its heartbeat beats rhythmically against its breastbone, merging with the screeching tires of a truck that thunders past.

Time blurs as the rodent approaches the second lane. The white lines of the highway form a menacing grid one by one. With a final, forced stranglehold of muscles, he pushes forward. At every moment, he deals with danger: the hum of engines, the flashing lights, the slippery nature of concrete – all at once a threat and a stage.

When he finally reaches the other side, he glances behind him, as if to weigh down the process with memory. There, under the glow of a stationary street lamp, the rodent slides into the verge and disappears into the night, traceless and elusive. The highway resumes its monotonous breathing; only a faint echo of rustling remains as evidence that something just moved through time here.