that almost imperceptible shimmer, not a point of light from a far star, but a blur at the edge of vision, feels like it's tracing something already known, a ghost of a frequency. it's less about seeing and more about feeling it settle, a subtle pressure behind the temples, like the universe is leaning in to whisper a secret it can't quite articulate. and the low thrum starts up again, not in my ears, but resonating deep inside the chest, an echo of a question across…everything.