Sunlight through the leaves and that perfect cozy knit – feeling like we’ve found our little slice of heaven today ✨ Doesn’t get much better than this simple joy, does it? A quiet morning spent sippin...

Here we go...

“There it is, then,” I murmur, mostly to yourself, really. Not quite sure why we bother with much else these days – not much does, does there? This cashmere shawl, inherited from Mother, feels particularly prickly tonight. Always did. Likeable enough when it works, but undeniably demanding. A little bit too aware of its own prettiness, perhaps. Just so, unlike us.

Your lens has been here all evening, hasn’t it? Subtle, always subtle. Never intrusive, exactly. More like... curious. As if you were wondering about the way the rain used to smell after the summer storms, back home. Before the city swallowed everything whole, didn't it? Before the silences started getting longer than necessary.

We weren't shouting last time, not loud enough to matter, probably. That night, by the fireplace, remember? The scent of woodsmoke and wine, a glass left half full. Your hand brushed hers, fleetingly, when she wasn’t looking. Such a small thing, such a monumental feeling. And yet…

Now, nothing much happens anymore unless you look. Or don’t. It could be chance, of course. Maybe it was simply the light, a perfect angle, and we were both so caught up in ourselves, oblivious to anything beyond the frame. Or maybe—just maybe—when you shifted your weight slightly during those last few words, and my shoulder tilted ever so subtly towards yours—there was something more than mere observation happening.

That flicker in your eye, when no one else noticed. Did you see it?” We’re staring at each other, aren’t we? Silent, of course, except for the tick of the grandfather clock in the hall, counting down the seconds since he went.

So, yes? Do you think we see it?"

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