My signal to noise ratio has gotten out of whack. I am seeing my own face, hearing my own voice, too much, and now I cannot escape the sing-song childhood rhyme, "A fool's voice and a fool's face are often seen in a public place."

I have walked into the noise, into the chatter, the static, bathed in it, confused my own voice with the chatterers and failed to converse sensibly with the wise and the lovely even when they were at hand.

It stops today.

I am dialing it all back, finding that tiny padded room where I can hear one true word (thank you, Ernesto) each day and write it down.You are welcome to come in and sit for a spell. It will be quiet here. No hands waving in the air, links, or page view stats. A little talk, maybe a poem over coffee and a cinnamon scone.

Yes, that would be good.

2 thoughts on “Manifesto

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