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The morning began even before I opened my eyes, announced by the delicate sound of rain tapping on the old roof. It wasn’t hurried or heavy, just steady and patient, as if it had decided to stay. The bedroom rested in soft half-light, and the air carried a gentle chill that invited me to linger under the blanket a little longer. I breathed in deeply, catching the familiar scent of aged wood mixed with a faint trace of soap absorbed by the curtains over time. Waking up there always felt reassuring, as though time itself moved more slowly within those walls. I rose carefully, the wooden floor creaking beneath my bare feet in quiet recognition. Each plank released familiar sounds as I walked down the narrow hallway, where old photographs hung slightly crooked in worn frames. Faces from another time smiled back at me, moments frozen on yellowed paper. I brushed my hand lightly over one frame, a silent greeting, before continuing on. In the kitchen, the fogged window blurred the outside world into soft greens and grays. Rain traced slow, irregular paths down the glass, and I stood watching them for a moment. I lit the stove, the click and blue flame bringing instant warmth. A kettle went on to heat, and I opened the cupboard for the tea. The scent of dried herbs drifted out, carrying comfort and routine. While the water warmed, I prepared the bread. The recipe was simple, learned long ago by observing patient hands. Flour, yeast, salt, warm water—mixed slowly until the dough became smooth and alive beneath my palms. Kneading followed a calming rhythm, blending with the rain and the quiet bubbling of the kettle. I set the dough to rest near the stove, covered with a cloth, and prepared the teapot. Steam rose gently when the water boiled, filling the kitchen as I poured it over the leaves. The tea darkened slowly, releasing a warm aroma. I poured a cup and held it in both hands, feeling the heat seep into my fingers. Sitting at the wooden table by the window, I took the first sip slowly. Outside, wet leaves gathered near the gate, and a lone bird sheltered under the eaves. When the dough was ready, I turned on the oven and shaped the bread, sliding it inside with care. Soon the scent of baking filled the house. While it baked, I wiped dust from the living room furniture, each object telling a quiet story—the ticking clock, the armchair by the window, the worn spines of old books. I opened the window slightly, letting in cool air and the smell of wet earth. The cat slept curled on the rug. I knelt to stroke its warm fur; it purred softly and settled again. Back in the kitchen, the bread’s crust browned beautifully. I washed a few cups, listening to water run and dishes clink, moving without haste. When the bread was done, I set it on the counter. The crust crackled softly as it cooled. I cut a warm slice, spread butter that melted instantly, and tasted it. Simple, warm, and grounding. I returned to the table with bread and tea, the rain still falling outside, creating a small, protected world. I wrote a few lines in an old notebook, noting the rain, the warmth, the quiet. Later, I stepped briefly into the garden with boots and coat, the air cool and fresh. Droplets slid from leaves as I picked a few herbs and brought them inside, placing them by the window. The morning continued unhurried. I sat with an old book in the armchair, reading, listening to the rain. The cat joined me, a warm presence at my side. When I finally glanced at the clock, mid-morning had arrived quietly, just like everything else in the house. #cozy #asmr #cozyvibes #slowliving #relaxing #rainyday #comfort #peaceful #cozymorning #rainasmr #teatime #homevibes #quietmoments #simpleliving #oldhouse #warmandcozy #ghiblivibes #ghiblicozy #ghibliaesthetic #cozystory #relaxingstory #ambientvideo #calmmoments #sleepvideo #backgroundambience #studioinspired #softaesthetic #magicaleveryday