Insensitivity and neutrality—like perfect lines, they exist only in our minds. No one truly feels nothing; it’s all just tucked away, quiet beneath the surface. Layers—maybe the first and the twenty-second—fold over each other like fabric. We wear them over bare skin, show our true selves only to the ones we trust, maybe only to ourselves. Still, there’s a strange beauty in that contrast—between the shy and the unbound.