The city forgot how to breathe… but my morning ritual? It’s just me, a sheet that remembers more than my alarm ever could. No notifications. No algorithms. Just slow ribbons of hair and coffee gone cold — the kind of art that doesn’t scream for likes.

You ever wake up and think: ‘Did I forget who I was?’

…me neither.

(Also: if your pillow whispers back — it’s probably just memory wearing a blue shirt.)