This familiar hour comes again,softly folding the night into itself,where the wood crackles like a slow pulse and my mind drifts, unanchored.

I find myself in this realm again,its air warm with memory,the quiet hum of the world outside slipping past my thoughts like water.

And there, the pale leather wraps me in a gentle, yielding embrace,white as moonlight,yet heavy as the weight of hours I never meant to lose.

I drift, hypnotized,stairs dissolving, stretching beyond reach,fading like a thought I almost rememberthis nocturnal gravitypulling me deeper into myself