
09/05/2025
There are mornings when I don’t want much. No music. No news. No morning greetings. Just a cup of tea, still warm in my hands. Not to drink right away - just to feel its warmth. And in that quiet, I realize how long it’s been since my hands last held something truly warm. Not a person. Not a possession. But a feeling - real, alive, here. I didn’t need to sip. I just needed to feel... as if my own hands were holding me.
Then I placed the cup down. A soft breeze brushed against my cheek. A sliver of morning light fell across an open page. I didn’t rush to write anything. I didn’t feel the need to say anything. I just felt... enough. Enough, in the quiet presence of so little. Enough, without needing to be seen. Without needing to record or prove. Just enough - because I was here. With myself.