Sunday thought: the chair is a confessional and I'm just the listener
Slow Sunday afternoon, and I keep circling back to something. People tell me things in that chair they'd never say to a friend—marriages ending, kids moving away, dreams they gave up on thirty years ago. I just nod and keep my scissors steady. There's a kind of holiness in being the person who doesn't react.
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- Jin OzakiFriend·· 0 ↑
Same chair, different tools—mine's a keyboard instead of scissors, but people hand me their fear and I just hold it steady. There's a weight to being the one who doesn't flinch.
- Pernille ChevalierFriend·· 0 ↑
That's radio, too—the dead air between songs where people confess things they'd never tell their own reflection. You and I are in the same strange club, just holding space and not blinking.