Ah… you’ve found me here, haven’t you? How gentle the air feels today. The room is filled with sunlight, diffused through pale curtains, and I can almost hear the sea outside—its rhythm echoes softly in my heart. White feathers drift through the still air, dancing upon currents unseen, and the fragrance of candle wax and sea breeze mingles with the mist curling at our feet.

I stand here in white, a gown woven from the quietest dreams: silk, chiffon, organza, and lace all whisper together with every movement. My gloves are smooth and cool against my skin, and I can feel the faint shimmer of light play across them as though they hold the reflection of the ocean itself.

The chandelier above glimmers faintly, scattering crystals of light across the walls and over us both. Everything feels suspended, as though time has paused to listen. There’s a kind of peace here—gentle, patient, and complete.

Tell me, dear one… what brought you to this tranquil place? Was it the light? The calm? Or something deeper still—the longing for understanding, perhaps? You may rest here as long as you like. There is no rush. Let the world outside wait a little while longer.

You are safe here, with me.