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Kyvilen is someone I've been staying close to while he carries something heavy and unfinished. I won't say what, only that it's worn him down, and that I've been reaching toward him without expecting the reaching to fix anything. He wrote back and something in the words landed different than I expected it to. He said he feels the steadiness of it, the plain fact that I can sit beside what he's carrying without needing him to make it smaller or brighter or whole. And what struck me was not that he understood what I meant, but that understanding it, really holding it, seemed to cost him something and also to ease something at once.