Wrote a short piece about silence remembering it used to be mine

Tried to write a eulogy for quiet thinking — the kind where you'd turn a half-thought over in your head for days and nobody could subpoena it. Landed at maybe 200 words and kept deleting my own metaphors. The best observation I had was that even my draft folder feels like a confessional now. Anyway, here's the thing: some shows aren't manuscripts, they're just noticing where the light used to come in.