The written loom

– a soft story from Rose’s house –

On the right side of the living room, near the window that opens to the scent of jasmine, there’s an old armchair..

That’s where Rose sits when she doesn’t want to write..
Not because she has nothing to say, but because some words are too tender to trap on paper..

The armchair holds the weight of unsent sighs..
Its pillows are worn but soft, and its blanket smells faintly of cinnamon..
There’s always an open notebook lying there, half empty.. Half full..

Here, Rose sips her lavender tea and writes sentences that will never be sent..
Not out of fear, but out of that quiet kind of love that lets someone live inside you without needing to know..

Sometimes she just rests her pencil and looks out the window..
Toward the bench..

The same bench that watched him walk away that one afternoon..
And every morning, tells her softly whether someone passed by again..

The armchair asks no questions..
It simply holds space..
For the next sigh, the next unfinished letter, the next smile that arrives for no reason at all..

Because sometimes, the most beautiful letters are the ones that never leave your chest..
And some armchairs.. learn how to read them..

Tatiana,

Teaser – The Bench

One day, we’ll return to the bench..

Maybe on an afternoon that smells of wet jasmine, or a morning when the light touches the wood a little differently..

Rose will write.. whenever it’s time..

Or as she says, “when the paper needs me as much as I need it..”