The days were different.
Strange days.
One event chasing another,
the atmosphere charged, explosive.

I learned how to disappear
without leaving.
How to lie still
and let the weight settle.

Not to fix the feeling.
Not to outrun it.
To sink for a while—
one day,
then another.

Outside, things kept breaking.
A truck overturned on the road.
Metal folded into itself.
Yesterday, in the same place,
a chain accident—
cars pressed together
as if there was nowhere else to go.

Inside, I wanted nothing.
Emptiness had a shape.
Loneliness too.

I stayed long enough
to feel the ground again.
Moved a little.
Stayed.

I thought I was waiting
for something to change.
For the noise to pass.
For the door to open.

But when it did,
there was no one there.