There is something about a man who stands in a field of flowers and doesn't pick a single one. He just stands there. Quietly. Like he understands that some beautiful things are not meant to be held. Only appreciated. I think about the kind of person who walks into color and chaos and just… breathes it in. No rush. No destination. Just present in a world that forgot how to slow down. That's the person I want to love. Not the one who buys flowers. The one who stands in a field and thinks of you anyway. The sky behind him is unfinished. Stormy in places. Golden in others. Like most love stories honestly. And he's just standing there in the middle of all of it. Dark jacket against a million colors. Like the one quiet thing in a world screaming for attention. I don't know where he's going. But I hope wherever it is, someone is waiting for him the same way spring waits for someone to finally notice it.