Poetica

It's as if the evening decided to last a little longer than it should. The air is already tired, but warm, and someone is still holding my hand, not letting go, as if that's the way not to get lost in the darkness. The waves whisper that you can let go of control and just drift, without asking where. And it's true, fatigue becomes softer when there's someone nearby for whom all this "isn't over yet." The music sounds like a reminder: even when it seems the light has gone out, you can learn to see in the dimness. Where silence speaks louder than words, and a simple "hug" is almost a prayer.