The window held its breath. Beyond it, the trees swayed not for attention, but for rhythm. A gentle pulse against the stillness. Their leaves caught pieces of light and let them go. Always letting go.
I watched the world slip by in fragments. A child tugging his mother’s coat. A man in a navy cap just waiting. A yellow dog trotting like he belonged to no one. Each moment, small and whole, and gone.
I did not wave. I did not speak. I only looked, and in the looking, I remembered how quiet life can be when it forgets you’re watching.
Some days, the world moves like a hymn you never learned the words to… but still, you hum along.
