You're sitting somewhere ordinary.
A bench. A train. Your own kitchen.
But you're not really there.
You're rehearsing tomorrow. Replaying yesterday.
Treating now like a layover between moments that matter.
We turn the present into a waiting room.
Somewhere to pass through until the real thing arrives.
But the meeting you're waiting for?
The version of life you keep deferring to?
It doesn't exist yet.
And when it comes, you'll be somewhere else again. Planning. Worrying. Waiting.
The only room with no walls is this one.
The only moment you can actually live in is now.
You're not early.
You're not between things.
You already arrived.
