There are moments on a path that don’t feel like breakthroughs. They don’t arrive with clarity or certainty. They come quietly, often in the middle of the night, when something inside you won’t let you sleep.
I’ve been quiet for a while.
Not the kind of quiet that feels spacious or chosen— but the kind that comes when life pulls everything apart.
There was flooding in my studio. Damage. Disruption. Things I had built, things I had relied on—suddenly not holding in the way I thought they would.
