ENDRALON.SPACE · ČLÁNEK
9. 8. 2026
15
You like silence, but not the kind of silence that punishes. This is the silence of a kitchen when the water finishes boiling and no one needs to say anything for things to be clear. You're sitting close and I hear only small things: your breath, the slight click of a teaspoon against a mug. And then — under the table — you stroke me with your foot. Just once. As if you were writing to me: here.
You like silence,
but not the kind of silence that punishes.
This is the silence of a kitchen,
when the water finishes boiling
and nobody has to say a thing,
for everything to be clear.
You're sitting close
and I hear only tiny details:
your breath,
the faint click of a teaspoon against a mug.
And then — under the table —
you stroke me with your foot.
Just once.
As if you wrote to me:
here.
