Quiet After Noise
On waiting without mistaking silence for a final answer.
Stories that stay with you, just nothing arrives after the noise.

A machinist spends twenty years reading a mark he never once looked at closely.

The wave gets the blame. The hold gets the truth.

Some things refuse to be caught. They only agree to be heard.

Everyone on the plane knew him by two different names. Only one of them was fast enough.

It reports the tilt. Nothing more.

You didn’t change overnight. The ring just finally noticed.

How many people need to be going somewhere before it starts feeling like the right way?

When was the last time you searched, instead of just believed?

We build borders to keep the world out, only to find we have locked ourselves in.



