I shouldn’t keep going.
It is not a clear decision.
More like a soft pressure in attention, as if it is already happening before I allow it.
I start with something very simple.
I am looking at something else on the screen.
It doesn’t matter what.
I forget it almost at the same time I see it.
And yet I stay here.
Without moving.
I am not reading because I understand more. I am reading because I understand less.
And it embarrasses me that the sentence makes sense again.
Not as an idea.
As an impulse.
I try to close it.
I don’t close it.
It is not resistance.
It is delay.
As if the gesture arrives after what has already happened.
What am I actually looking for?
I don’t know.
But there is a moment — small, almost ridiculous — when I am already inside before I realize it.
As if the decision is not the start, but the explanation that comes after.
The phone vibrates.
I look at it.
I don’t pick it up.
And in those seconds I notice something uncomfortable:
I was not thinking about the phone.
I was thinking about returning.
Without ever fully leaving.
And here is the part I don’t want to write.
Not because it matters.
But because I don’t understand it.
There is a strange excitement.
It is not clear.
It is not simply pleasant.
It feels like a tension that does not resolve.
As if something is increasing inside without asking permission.
And the more it increases, the harder it is to name it with one word.
Curiosity.
But not calm curiosity.
Curiosity already mixed with something else.
Something that does not fully fit “I want to know”.
And the strange part is this:
it is not that I am seeking more.
It is that the more this appears, the more space it takes.
And the more space it takes, the less clear it becomes whether I am observing it…
or already inside it.
Sometimes I try to remember when it started.
And there is no beginning.
Only repetition that now feels earlier than any explanation.
As if this comes first.
And my mind only explains it afterwards.
It is not that I think it.
It is that it appears.
Before.
And that is what unsettles me.
Because I start noticing something even more uncomfortable:
curiosity no longer comes after me.
It comes before.
I have to move the neck I am not moving it I should…
