Not hearing much that’s eloquent he might be tempted to leave, that fly on the wall.
Words are unguarded here, and often left unspoken. Sometimes because nothing more need be said, sometimes because the better part is not to speak at all. Even when outrage feels all consuming, the time that follows always seems to demand our silent reconsideration.
Mostly though, here at home, the strands that draw us together bind not only our hearts but our tongues as well. A moment of everyday silence can still measure out years of honest contemplation between us.
Words would only distract us from that eternal conversation.
That fly on the wall may soon find himself bored, hearing nothing of any great consequence to bring back to the others.
But only because he’s not really been listening.
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