The last weeks were heavy. Not dramatic in appearance, but dense.
Sustained focus. Constant alertness. No margin for error.
When you live close to the edge, rest is not indulgence. It is maintenance.
So I slowed down.
I swept a courtyard. I cooked. I stayed quiet.
No performance. No urgency. No narrative pressure.
Sometimes stability is not built by adding more, but by letting the dust settle. By allowing stillness to do its quiet work. Even three hours of simple physical labor can be enough to bring the system back into itself.
Whether I stay or move on tomorrow is secondary. Movement has always been part of the rhythm. What matters is that the ship holds. And it does.
Wind will return.
For now, I choose calm water.