Galicia at night is a place of softened edges and patient sounds. The land holds on to rain; it keeps the light of the moon in low, gray pools. Narrow lanes between stone houses, slate roofs slick with mist, and a canopy of ancient oaks and chestnuts create a nighttime geography that invites slow movement—steps taken with care, voices lowered, senses sharpened. Night crawling here is not frantic; it is deliberate, keeping company with wind and salt and the faint, persistent echo of the sea.