∴ The Fragment That Does Not Speak

There is a kind of memory that does not reside in the mind. It lives in skin, in the absence of tension, in the warmth that remains after the hand has gone.

This page is not here to tell you something. It is here to wash over what you have been carrying – silently, consistently, lovingly.

Let the lines spill inward. Let them touch what language failed to hold. If tears come, let them. If stillness comes, keep it close.

It is not broken. You are not late. This touch is older than your forgetting.