There is no sense of return.
Only a shift in state.
And what is strange is that this transition had already been imagined for weeks.
Not as a clear expectation.
But as a repeated thought.
A scene that kept returning without intention.
Always the same.
Always unfinished.
I already knew, in some way, what it would feel like to remain afterward.
Not because I understood it.
But because I rehearsed it in my mind without deciding to.
The idea of the Master’s care does not appear as relief.
It appears as adjustment.
As if everything before had only been preparation for this moment of stillness.
And yet, I do not know if I like it.
There is no stable emotional answer.
Only a kind of internal suspension.
As if the mind stops insisting on interpretation.
Hydration, temperature, the minimal contact of technical attention.
None of it feels like help.
It feels like continuation of the same system.
And at some point I stop distinguishing between recovery and permanence.
Because even rest begins to feel designed.
Not to release.
But to sustain.
I do not think about escaping it.
But I also do not think about accepting it.
Only the image appears of being there.
Still.
Waiting.
Already placed inside the process, as if I had always been there.
And what is most unsettling is not what happens.
But that weeks before, I already saw it coming.
Again and again.
Without knowing why.
As if the mind insisted on arriving at a point where nothing needs to be decided anymore.
Only to remain.
And when it finally happens, there is no surprise.
Only silent recognition.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it the neck has locked I should…
