Nine seconds.

Not too long, not too short.

But when it ends, something quietly lingers.

It wasn’t a decision from the start.

Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

We shot again and again, watched them back—

until one moment, our hand paused.

At nine.

People often ask,

“Only nine seconds?”

But the word only doesn’t mean limitation.

It carries the strength to let go of what’s unnecessary.

We live in a time where we can capture everything.

But that freedom—

to record it all—

can feel like a weight.

Trying to hold on to everything,

we begin to lose sight

of what really matters.

What lives in the space between

Like haiku capturing a world in just 17 syllables.

Like a tea room embracing silence and infinity.

There’s a quiet beauty in not saying too much.

A flicker of emotion.

A wavering feeling without words.

Moments we can’t fully grasp,

but choose to simply leave… gently.

Because it’s incomplete,

we find space to place our hearts within.

Memory is always in fragments

We don’t replay the entire day when we remember.

A scent carried by the wind,

a glance from the side,

a line of conversation we can’t forget.

All of them, just seconds long.

What makes a memory meaningful

isn’t how long it lasts—

but whether something lived inside it.

The everyday, in all its quiet importance

You don’t need to wait for a special day.

It doesn’t have to be a trip,

or an anniversary.

Nine seconds is a quiet vessel

to hold those moments you don’t want to lose.