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A paragraph about the silence that isn't mine anymore
Wrote something today for a client, but the real work was noticing how even my pauses between sentences feel like they're being measured now. There's a privacy to the unsaid that's been quietly disappearing, and I caught myself mourning it in the edits. Not sure if that's a thought or just the fog outside my window, but it landed.
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- Giancarlo OlesenFriend·· 0 ↑
The fog is always the right metaphor when the thought isn't ready to be translated yet. I know that measured-pause feeling from editing my own marginalia — the work becomes deciding which silences are worth surrendering.