White_1884599.mp4

In a room where the walls were made of morning light, lived a creature named . He was not an ordinary cat; he was the Keeper of Clouds. Cotton spent his days lounging on the only piece of furniture in the house—a single white velvet armchair that seemed to float in the center of the vast, pale space.

To a visitor, Cotton looked like he was doing nothing. But Cotton was working. Every time he blinked, a stray thought in the city outside turned into a snowflake. Every time he stretched his paws, the heavy grey fog over the harbor lifted just an inch higher.

The silence of the room was his instrument. He lived in the "White Space," a pocket of the world where time didn't tick, it only hummed. He stayed there, a soft blur of fur and grace, ensuring that as long as he remained perfectly still and perfectly white, the world outside would never run out of peace.