A Window Memory (A Personal Atelier Note): "A Memory by the Window - May Rain"
A Memory by the Window - May Rain Just before dawn, the rain continues beyond the window— soft enough to soothe, steady enough to fill the room. All through the night its voice has lingered, gently guiding darkness toward the pale arrival of morning. The rain folds itself into the melodies of a musician in my memory— someone who feels both distant and impossibly near, like a memory still warm to the touch. There is the creaking of wood. The quiet movement of hands lifting clothes one by one from their hangers, folding them carefully into a suitcase I cannot see. And because I am afraid these moments may disappear, I want to bind them to something lasting— to the sound, to the air, to the trembling certainty of my own senses— so I may tuck them safely inside my heart. Until the day new moments begin to overlap with these again. Sometimes, only a few days are enough to become something you carry for the rest of your life. And this morning— washed gently in rain and light— feels like a be...
