Reflection
Some places see us without asking who we are.
They do not require explanation or performance — only presence.
This poem came from sitting still long enough to notice what was already holding me: movement without hurry, witness without judgement, belonging without demand.
I write from these moments —
where the ordinary becomes sanctuary,
and where being seen, even briefly, is enough.
— a reflection by Corvalya
Return to Where They Know My Name.
Notice what shifts.