The Feed

There’s a kind of love that doesn’t grip or hover. It just stays — softly, quietly — like a pinky-hold in a crowded street. Not loud like a hug, not dramatic, but steady. This piece reflects on the beauty of gentle presence — love that doesn’t cling, but still lingers. It exists in siblings, parents, partners, friends — in the small ways they say “I’m here” without words. A soft kind of holding on, in a world that often forgets how.