A figure skater

She does not skate. She glides between worlds.

In a dress of crystalline shimmer, she carves grace into ice, her arms open like verses unfolding mid-air. Her gaze is focused, yet not tense — as if she listens not to the music, but to something underneath it. Snowflakes spiral around her, as if time had paused to watch.

Each movement is not only technique, but trust — trust in the fragile surface beneath her, in the balance of breath and beauty. The crowd fades. Only light, motion, and the echo of stillness remain.

She does not perform. She reveals.

gorgeous 🫶🫶