The weight of ease

It started with the heat.

One of those days you easily spend in Thailand, but hide away from in Belgium. Where a heavy energy presses in from all sides, and even the air feels heavy. I had hung the sheets to block out the sun, to cool the room or at least to soften it.

Something shifted.

I stood still, but something inside had already moved.

The space became closed, contained, almost sacred. I slowed down. My breath. My thoughts. My movements.

Light found me where I wasn’t looking.

I picked up the camera. Not to pose, but to respond. To trace what was there, beneath the surface.

Ease takes effort.

The Weight of Ease is what emerged:
A small sequence held between tension and pause.
Ease is often romanticized, but here, it carried weight.

I didn’t pose. I remained.