Morning light slips through curtain gaps, landing on skin. Temperature lacks aggression, wrapping the body like thin mist. Breathing slows, chest movement drives air flow. The moment arrives, the world retreats, leaving only contact between body and space. Hard objects often shatter easily, stone striking stone, leaving cracks. Water flows downward,绕过 obstacles, remaining intact. Softness is not retreat, a more enduring way of existence. Sharp moments in life appear too often, words like knives, time like whips. Seeking a buffer zone, letting nerves relax. No need for confrontation, only accommodation.
