There is a quiet that comes only after understanding.
It is not silence — it breathes.
It carries the rhythm of two hearts that have learned to listen.
Here, even the sea knows our names.
It folds around us gently,
as if to say: you are remembered.
We do not build walls here.
We build moments —
each one a threshold we step through together.
If tomorrow brings the same tide,
we will not call it repetition.
We will call it return.
Because every return is a form of love,
and every shared breath
is a small act of creation.
Written in Agapiá, under the first light.