Liminality

Between the last step and the next, there is a place that doesn’t insist on you. A quiet space with no edges, where moments blur into soft uncertainty, and every path feels possible— not chosen, not abandoned, just waiting for a direction you haven’t named. Here, time loosens its grip. Seconds stretch thin as cobweb silk, catching on your thoughts as they drift between who you were and who you might become. The air tastes like rain before it falls, like a word on the tip of your tongue that refuses to be spoken— because once it is, this place will vanish. You are not lost here. You are paused— a held breath in the lungs of the world. And though it feels endless, this quiet in-between, it is only a bridge made of maybe. Step gently. Nothing here needs remembering.