Touchless closeness

Within the human heart lies a unique kind of knowing—not intellectual, not learned.
It's an inner sense that somewhere in the world, there's a person with whom we could be in true harmony. Not because they impress us. Not because we desire them. But because their presence resonates on the same frequency as our soul.

And this isn't about romantic love. Not the infatuation portrayed in films.
But a tenderness that can't be forced; that peculiar feeling of "home in someone's eyes"—even if we don't know them. It's not infatuation. It's calm. Silence. An awareness that the other exists, even if we've never met. And that they would see us if we crossed paths.

How to Recognize a Love That Doesn't Unfold

Most of our notions of love are tied to presence: it must be lived, proven, reciprocated. But what if there are loves that don't happen—and yet are real? What if there's a love that simply is?

Without reproach. Without games. Without conditions.
A love that doesn't possess, but wishes well.
A love that doesn't need the other to be ours—only to be happy.

This might be the purest form of relationship.
The knowledge that we hold a place in our heart for someone, even if we never reach them. And that it's enough.
Not because we're giving up. But because we know that true connection doesn't require control or contact. Only honesty.

Clouds as a Space Where Imprints Remain

The idea that a thought or feeling can leave a trace isn't new.
But what if it's not just a metaphor? What if, when we look at the sky and think of someone—not specifically, but with emotional precision—something remains in the space? Not in the ether, not in magic, but in a subtle shift of reality, perceivable only through sensitivity, not science.

Clouds aren't empty.
They contain water, particles, traces of dust, temperatures, movements, the breath of the landscape. They are living layers above our heads.
And perhaps within them, the imprint of emotional movement—gentle, unforced, sent with genuine intent—can be captured.

A Touch That Materializes as a Raindrop

The notion that a raindrop can carry a touch isn't merely a literary image.
It's a way to express that our inner world isn't separate from the external world.
That when we look at the sky with a quiet wish—not selfish or desperate, but tender and pure—that feeling can extend further.
A drop that then falls on someone's shoulder may be just water. But for someone, it might be a touch.
Unconscious, yet real.

How to Know Someone Exists "For Us"

We often ask: how do I know if it's "the one"?
But perhaps we should change the question.
Not: How do I know it's them?
But rather: How can I attune myself to even hear when they pass by?

Because maybe people who could make us happy truly exist. Maybe we're just not ready to recognize them because we're afraid to be authentic. We hide behind roles, styles, expectations.
Yet pure connection requires only one thing: truthfulness and silence.

Silence as a Prerequisite for True Perception

Much happens in noise. But the essential unfolds in stillness.
In silence, the nuances of voice are heard that are lost in noise.
In silence, we can observe. Perceive. And ultimately—recognize.

The person who could love us truthfully may have already passed by. Perhaps they're reading a book in a café right now, standing at a crosswalk in another city, or feeding a child.
And maybe, at this.

 

© Tereza Sklovská | Different Worlds by Sklovská

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