Warmth is born somewhere on the verge of breathing — light, transparent, like the whisper of the wind under the skin. It doesn't rush, it just flows, filling the body with a gentle presence. My chest gets a little tighter, my breathing gets deeper, and my heart feels like it's listening to itself. Everything around loses its shape, turning into a space of sensations — smooth, calm, alive. There are no thoughts or words inside, just a quiet rhythm that fills every cell with meaning.