Sometimes the way the sun shined through the curtains was blissful.

It was dark, but the kind of dark you could see in. The kind of dark that was silent and unharmed. It had a certain serenity to its space — it was inviting.

Sometimes the way the sun shined through the windows was enchanting. I swear I could almost see the light dancing rhythmically, to the perfect beat of the sun; no hesitation in its steps.

It was full of memories. Attempting to take a seat at the bottom of the pool without floating away from the safe haven I encountered. Looking up and seeing the rays that penatrate the water so carefully.

Sometimes the way the sun shined through the cracks in the walls was harmonious. Undisturbed and unheard of, it was introverted at its best. The invisibility was a gift, although going unnoticed becomes indignant. I could dance in the invisibility like I won every war I would ever face.

Sometimes the way the sun shined through the broken roof was unalarming. Honest in its own lies, there was no better way to be vulnerable. There was no need for shields or weapons. It was exposed, and yet still safe. No one else was in that ray of light except for one body, timelessly invisible. Even the stars produced light and warmth in a way that was as tranquil as the rays of sun that were continuously touched, but they were as much of a virgin to the peace as anyone else.

Sometimes the way the sun shined on my skin was simply blissful. My own house of serenity that could never be interuppted because we were invisible.