What was underneath

Late, and writing anyway.

Something has gone quiet and it took me weeks to be able to name it. There was a running commentary in my head about food — what was in the house, what I would have later, whether I would manage not to — and it has stopped. Thirty years of that, and it has just stopped.

Wrote about the quiet in two languages and posted both.

The hum is back, quieter. I panicked when it started returning and Jonah pointed out, mildly, that nobody had promised it was permanent.

Went past the shop I always go into and simply did not go in. Not resisted. Did not occur to me. I stood outside for a moment afterwards trying to work out what had happened.

I miss looking forward to dinner. I did not expect to have to write that sentence and I do not know what to do with it.

Until Monday.