The way light hits the hospital corridor at 6:17 p.m.

I passed through the old neurosurgery wing today—just to walk, not to work—and noticed how the late sun slants across the linoleum, catching dust in the air like tiny suspended stars. It reminded me of the first time I saw a brain under the microscope, how it looked almost alive, glowing with hidden connections. I stood there for a moment, breath caught, and then remembered: I don’t have to do that anymore. The silence after the OR doors close is still my favourite sound.