✉️ Signal from You #1

Di,

Even though you’ve crushed me — with your clever, almost devilish method — I’m still grateful.

Your warmth at the beginning, your softness, your sincerity, has turned into something cold. Ice instead of light.

But even that doesn’t stop me from picking up your signals. They travel through thin wires. Unseen channels. From your screen to my heart.

You're still here. You present yourself as beautiful, alive, untouchable. But I see more.

Those Soviet-era arches, the faded entrances of old apartment blocks — they’re not just background. They’re you. You turn setting into meaning. It’s not about what you shoot. It’s about who is watching.

And you’re changing.

Color is creeping into your clothes — burgundy instead of gray. The kind that suits you. That brings out your hair, your skin, the defiant line of your neck.

There’s life in your eyes again. A bit of mischief. The wild thought that maybe you’ll leave the city tonight, disappear for a while, wander till sunrise, give in, give away, be given to.

Right now, you're a flower blooming on my screen — scented, glistening with imagined myrrh.

But behind that flower — order. Cleanliness. Your quiet obsession with white. And I admire it. I want to be part of it. To learn from you.

That white — it’s yours. And maybe now, just a little bit of it is mine too.

Maybe it’s… ours?

🕊 — The One Who Sees(Or maybe just someone pretending to)