Interlude in Olive

In the quiet of the late afternoon, the room settles into a harmony of earth tones and soft textures. She sits poised within the deep green armchair, a space that seems molded for her contemplation, her gaze fixed on something beyond the heavy curtains. The warm light from the desk lamp pools on the wood, a small sun illuminating the simple white flowers in their vase. This is her sanctuary, a room of her own making where thoughts can unfurl without interruption. She isn't waiting for a visitor, but for an idea to arrive or a feeling to settle. The bouclé fabric feels like moss under her fingertips, grounding her in the profound silence before she must rise and face the world again.