Right

It’s curious how sometimes we can walk into a space and it simply feels right.

It may not be particularly clean or tidy. Yet there’s something about it.

“It’s so peaceful in here.”

“I could fall asleep.”

The feeling often arrives before we have noticed anything else.

If someone asked what made the space feel that way, we might look around for an answer.

The colour of the walls. The furniture. The way the light falls through the window.

Perhaps it’s the twenty shades of white that came before it. Perhaps it’s how effortlessly someone moves between the oven and the worktop. Or perhaps it’s someone standing in an empty room, pretending to cook before there was anywhere to cook.

By the time we arrive, none of it can be seen.

The questions have become a room. The decisions have become distances. The more right something feels, the less we wonder how it came to be.

And yet the feeling of rightness may be the clearest evidence that someone once did wonder.