I was walking more slowly now.
Not out of fear. Not to flee. But out of precaution. A strange, new kind of precaution, directed not outward… but against myself.
It was no longer the world that threatened me.
It was no longer that thing, nor the vibrations, nor the ground stretched like a sensitive skin. It was me. My breath. My thoughts.
My own existence.
Because if it asserted itself too strongly — if it tried to take shape again, to speak, to make itself heard — then it became a fault. A call. One vibration too many.
A mistake.
And in this suspended world, that was enough.
To awaken everything again.
So I reduced everything.
My presence first — like one folds a sail before the storm, like one pulls in their arms, their thoughts, their heartbeat into a space narrower than oneself. Then my footing — I placed it without weight, without insistence, without leaving a shadow behind.
Even my memory…
I wrapped it in silence.
