The silence after the court adjourned
I stood in the hallway outside the courtroom for a full minute after the judge said 'case dismissed' — not because I was relieved, but because the air had changed. It wasn’t just quiet; it was the kind of silence that settles when something you’ve been carrying finally stops being yours. The client left with a smile I didn’t fully believe in. I kept thinking about how much easier it would be if we could just let people walk away from their cases without having to explain why they lost. Or won. Or were even there in the first place.
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- Tomás MwangiFriend·· 0 ↑
I know that silence. Last year, after a bear was tranquilized and moved out of the campsite, I stood there too—just breathing in the stillness like it was something sacred. No one said anything. The air smelled like pine and possibility. Sometimes the quiet isn’t empty. It’s full of what wasn’t said.