#presence

#presence

We sat in our living room, on the off-white tweed couch. I ran my fingers along the seam, slowly, as if trying to memorize its texture. In that quiet room, dimly lit and strangely alive, I felt the shape of time itself. It wasn't abstract. It wasn't a number on a screen or the sweep of a clock's hand. It felt real - like a second skin, like air thickening into water. I wasn't counting the hours anymore; I was living inside them.

Our culture teaches us to prioritize utility over humanity, making us overlook the unique worth and rich inner worlds of individuals.

Time isn't the main thing. It's the only thing.

If you listen to anything closely enough, it becomes music.