Held in Ink

Some things are easier to find when they’re hidden.
Others, only reveal themselves when no one’s looking.

Words have a way of slipping between the obvious.
Not loud enough to demand attention,
Not quiet enough to be forgotten.
What you find here might not be what was written,
What was written might not want to be found

Still, it is held in ink.

And every Friday, the ink returns shaped by silence, waiting to be found.

A new post, quietly left here each week.