A quiet text about how presence disguises itself as calmness and becomes a test of structure.
Presence always pretends to be silence.
As if nothing happens — only the air grows heavier.
The marble neck never moves,
yet a fold of fabric on the shoulder holds a tension
no living body could endure.
Presence promises support,
but support eventually demands stillness.
A person becomes the pedestal
for their own fear.
And the single thread of light
falling across the stone face reveals what’s never said:
presence is not to be,
but to withstand.
Break.