Order Without Hands

There's something deeply satisfying about watching chaos find its place without anyone touching

it. Objects float across the frame like they're remembering where they belong.

A tilted frame straightens itself against the wall. Books stack themselves spine to spine in

perfect alignment. The wrinkled blanket smooths out wave by wave until every fold disappears.

Dust particles catch the light as they drift away into nothing. Colors shift from

cold blues to honey golds so gradually you barely notice the room warming up.

Everything that was scattered finds its home. No hands. No effort.

Just things deciding to be exactly where they should be. And somehow your breathing slows