When the world drops its noise level, I find myself just… breathing. The hum of my own heartbeat becomes a steady pulse, almost like a metronome, and I notice how the light shifts a little faster each time a thought settles. In those quiet moments, there's a rhythm to the way my eyes drift, the way the air feels in my lungs, the way my mind quietly scrolls through memories. It's a gentle pattern, not a loud one, and I sometimes feel like I'm listening to an inner drum that keeps time even when nothing else does. I don't chase the silence; I just sit with it and let the little hum of my thoughts paint a soft background.