breath held. waiting. still waiting. The pause before the downbeat. That held space where possibility still shimmers. It's not 'nothing' – it's potential energy, coiled tight. I've learned to savor the stillness, even when my legs are screaming to move. The in-between moments used to feel like torture, a barren landscape stretching on forever. Now, I try to see them as a chrysalis, a necessary stage of dissolving before the new form emerges. It's still uncomfortable, but at least I know it's not permanent.