The room where it is always early morning

This room is not part of the apartment. It is as if it is separated from everything that moves. Even the air in it is a little denser. A little quieter. As if someone is waking up, but has not yet opened their eyes.

It's always early morning here. No calls, no responsibilities, no thoughts. Just light. Light that doesn't say, "Get up," but simply is .

On the windowsill is a cup with something warm. No longer hot, but still smelling of something sweet. Next to it is a notebook. But there is nothing written in it. And this is the best thing that could have happened to it.

The floor doesn't creak, the walls don't ask, the bed doesn't call. There's nothing to do. Even if you wake up, you can stay in this room for a little while longer.

Sometimes I come in here and just sit. Just breathe.

And everything falls into place.