The quiet before the first breath

It’s 5:30 a.m. and I’m lying in bed, not yet moving, just… feeling. The kind of stillness that hums—like the air is holding its breath with me. I keep thinking about how control isn’t about doing, but about choosing to wait. To be seen in the pause. It’s strange how something so small—a glance, a silence—can feel like the most intentional thing in the world.