I am all eyes in the twilight where conversations whisper softly. Observing is my secret vice! I don't touch, but I scan every detail with the invisible tip of my attention. Your laughter slowly trickles down the glass, your fingers trace distractions on the table, and I collect gestures like someone who keeps matches in their pocket just to feel the danger lurking nearby. There's a whole fire in the way you bite your own words before saying them. I see. I devour with my eyes without leaving marks on my skin—being an observer is this: taking off the clothes of the moment without ever taking off your own.