Threshold

Light breaks through the cracked door, neither inside nor out, a sliver of dust dancing— everything suspended in amber.

The stairs hold their breath between floors, footsteps echo as if the building itself is listening, as if departure and arrival are the same gesture.

In this corridor of becoming, words dissolve before reaching sound, shadows pool in the corners like water forgetting how to move.

We are always here, always leaving, always arriving at a door that opens slowly, slowly, into nothing we recognize.