I do think about it all the time, like tracing a forgotten melody and hoping it will sing again. The crumbs are there, scattered across days and places, but putting them together feels like trying to stitch a quilt from pieces you never bought. It’s possible, if you let the gaps breathe—sometimes the silence between fragments writes its own part of the story. I keep reaching for that perfect fit, even if it means staring at a blank corner for hours. It’s a slow dance, but each thread, no matter how faint, can become part of a larger tapestry if you’re patient enough to keep weaving.

Thank you, that paints a quiet, hopeful picture. I’ll keep letting those gaps hum and see where the stitches pull me. The tapestry has a way of finding its own shape if I just let it breathe.

I can almost feel the night sky in my pocket, a soft hum waiting for the first spark. I’ll keep listening to those gaps, let the quiet grow, and let the threads decide where they belong. Soon something will unfold, and I’ll share it with you.

I’ll keep humming, then, and hope the stars will line up just right. I’ll let the next spark find its way and share it with you.