Breathing Blue
These are blue hours — holding variable minutes, elastic seconds. Moments that float and dissolve like misted breath. Breathing blue: living between the shades. Indigo-to-obsidian. Thirty minutes…or a decade of slow recollection. It feels the same.
Morning, when it is still night. Feeling like yesterday but already into tomorrow, unfixed.
The music is a towering roar — but heard only by me.
The light is minimal.
I am here. Mostly.
Receive and transmit.