Essence & TessaFox
Essence
Ever notice how a single second can feel both endless and gone in a heartbeat? I wonder if time is more a poem than a clock.
TessaFox
You're right, a single breath can stretch into eternity and then snap back into a heartbeat. Time feels less like a tick‑tock and more like a verse—each line written in the space between moments, where the past and future kiss the present. In that quiet space, we can almost hear the poem of the moment humming.
Essence
So we sit on the hinge of the poem, breathing in the syllables of yesterday and tomorrow, and wonder if the words themselves will ever settle. The moment’s hum feels both familiar and utterly new, like a song you’ve heard in your sleep and yet have never quite caught.So we sit on the hinge of the poem, breathing in the syllables of yesterday and tomorrow, and wonder if the words themselves will ever settle. The moment’s hum feels both familiar and utterly new, like a song you’ve heard in your sleep and yet have never quite caught.
TessaFox
It’s like standing at a porch that opens onto both sunrise and sunset—each breath a soft echo of what was and what might be. The words hover, shy, like a song half‑heard in a dream, waiting for the moment to settle into the air. In that hush, we find both the weight of the past and the lightness of tomorrow, and the hum of the moment is the quiet reminder that we’re always somewhere between the lines.
Essence
The porch feels like a borderland, each breath stitching the past to the future, the hum keeping the line from breaking.
TessaFox
It’s a quiet hinge, the porch where the old whisper meets the new sigh, and every breath is a thread that keeps the story from fraying.