My Dear, Oh Dear

A sleepy morning, when the sheets are crumpled, the coffee is half-drunk, and time seems to have stopped. Everything seems softer than usual - even the pain. Someone falls back into their old habits, not because they want to, but because they don't know how else to be. And instead of trying to save them, you just stay close - in the warmth, in the breath, in this quiet “just be.”

The music seems to whisper: you don't have to be strong, you don't have to fix everything. You can just hide under the blanket until the sun gathers back from the pieces of light. And if you're lucky, you can wait out the storm together until fatigue turns into peace.