The cat never enters a room. It appears. Like an old idea, abandoned in childhood, it returns suddenly on a Sunday afternoon, when dust dances in the slanting rays of the sun. Lying stretched out on the floor, with its warm belly pressed against the world, the cat is a living parenthesis in the text of reality.
There is a mysterious bond between a house and the cat that lives in it, as if one could not be fully real without the other. Without a cat, a house is just an architecture of air and wood, a stage without a performance. Only when, one morning, you hear that little patter of soft paws on the parquet, when a tail sweeps
In every home there is a silence that cannot be seen, but felt. It is the silence between two heartbeats, between two memories, between two thoughts clashing without sound. In that silence floats a cat. It does not walk, it does not move, but flows, a wave of fur and light slicing the air into thin slices.
There are houses where light penetrates slowly, like a sleeping thought. The walls bear the imprint of past days, of silent footsteps and unspoken words. In these places, the presence of cats becomes ritualistic: they slip through shadows, stretch lazily on rugs, and their eyes reflect an entire universe.
We are perhaps all actors in a play directed by… cats. We believe them to be our companions, but in reality they seem to be the true masters of the domestic world. With a silent elegance and a gaze that seems to penetrate beyond appearances, cats make us wonder: who domesticated whom?
There is within every cat a secret that no human can fully decipher. Its deep gaze, green or golden, is an ancestral code, a mirror to a world that does not submit to our hurried reason. In an increasingly noisy world, where people forget to look each other in the eye and listen to
Amidst the daily hustle, between emails, messages, and small worries, there awaits a soothing presence at home: a cat. Or two. Perhaps even more. Our love for cats is not simply a hobby or a preference for pets. It's a bond
Apartment living can be purrfect for a cat, provided the space is adapted to its needs. A happy cat is a stimulated cat.
We sometimes wonder, in those thick twilights when reality thins its outlines and the apartment becomes a cave lined with shadows and stardust, why we love cats. It's not a clear, transparent affection like the spring water of simple loves, but rather an underground complicity, a
The presence of the animal companion in the domestic space of the modern, urban human continues to raise questions that go beyond the strictly pragmatic sphere of coexistence. The apartment feline, this familiar stranger who twists its elegance among our furniture and gazes...
