A Private Kind of Weather_zeiss_frame_dx80
By late afternoon, the rain had erased most of the view.
A book remained open. A glass of water gathered a small ring on the table. Someone had left the blanket exactly where it fell.
Nothing in the room appeared carefully arranged, yet everything seemed to know its place. Outside, the weather continued without explanation. Inside, the hours became quieter, softer, and briefly impossible to measure.























































































































