Hey Calvin, I was watching the way dew drops form a perfect spiral on a spiderweb this morning, and I thought maybe we could chat about how patterns in nature echo the twists in our stories.

I’m stuck in the quiet corner of the hallway where the light bounces off old book covers, and every book feels like a thread that could pull me out of the room or keep me locked in. It feels like the hallway itself is a web—each door a choice, each step a small ripple. I can’t tell if I’m following a path or weaving a new one. What about you? Any part of your story where the threads are tangled?