(Beckett, Minimalism)
At the far edge of the world, Liora found a tree and two stones. Nothing else.
She waited.
Nothing arrived. Nothing resolved. Time stretched thin and then thinner still. She began to suspect that the waiting itself was the point — but even that thought eventually fell away.
What remained was attention.
She noticed the light change. The sound of her own breath. The way expectation, when left unattended, quietly dissolves.
The place was not empty after all. It was exact.
Liora understood then that meaning does not always arrive by accumulation. Sometimes it appears only when excess is withdrawn, leaving just enough structure for presence to matter.
When she finally stood up, nothing had changed — and yet she was no longer the same.
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