She doesn’t look at me - and there’s something almost magical in that. It feels as if the light touches her skin just for me, as if her silence holds a secret I’ll never fully know. She isn’t acting or pretending - she simply exists in this fleeting moment, wrapped in the soft hush of thoughts, memories, and a barely audible dream. Her silence doesn’t push me away; it draws me in, like warmth in a world that so often feels cold and noisy. There is no pose, no need for words. There is only her - real, alive, so present that the world around seems to pause and fade. Between us, something quiet and luminous is born - a small universe made of everything she doesn’t say. And maybe that is enough. Maybe that is everything.
