Tales of a Tattler

  Love takes many forms, lingers in many places, and does not always belong where we wish it would. And yet, in letting it move as it must, we find our way back to ourselves. We spend so much time reaching outward, only to realize that love, in all its forms, quietly leads us inward.

  There are those who leave, those who stay, and those that hold their places without question. Together, they shape a space where passage, permanence, and purpose quietly converge, and it becomes difficult to tell where freedom ends and design begins.

  Not all stillness is absence. Sometimes, it is a quiet gathering of light, of memory, of passing lives brushing against each other without notice. What we call silence may simply be the world speaking in a softer voice.