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Lessons in the Quiet

This is a space for thoughtfulness—where contemplation, philosophy, and the pursuit of understanding take centre stage. Here, reflections sit alongside explorations of serious topics and critical thinking. In the quiet, we uncover lessons that demand stillness to be heard. Whether pondering virtues, questioning systems, or seeking clarity, this section is for the poems and essays that linger longest after the words are read.

You Are Not the Room

You are not the room. Not the thick air, the chipped mug, the mould on the bathtub. Not the silence that clings to the ceiling, or the rot of hours with no answers. You are not broken, doomed, undeserving, a fraud. Nothing wasted, nothing lost. You’re just stuck – like

Fugue for an Old Hunter in Scent Major

– Bach, for two noses, one constant presence. I. (Doof) Nose low. Step silent. The scent begins shallow – he slows. Left paw tests a patch of dry. There was a bird, not long. He turns before the wind does. Ribs tighten around the breath that hasn’t changed. Something worth knowing

Mozambique

Caravel, Catechism, Kalashnikov, Couture There is a place where the sea forgets its name. It comes in filth, goes out holy. Fishermen throw their nets into water already netted, and draw up beads, prayers, and one boot. It is divided by a river – not administratively (rivers don’t respect forms)

Glitch

If we were war, we’d call it necessary. We’d speak of strategy, flags, lines drawn and redrawn. We’d praise discipline, honour the dead, forget the fire. If we were cancer, we’d marvel at our growth – how we endure, how nothing stops us. We’d say we

Ghibli’s Patience

She rolls her eyes with a restless breath, warm, wide, sails stretched taut, fierce and bemused, half-playful, half-tolerant of the creature she bears, indulgent as she glides. Her nimble hull hums and skips the waves, tuned to storms and shifting skies, to clouds with mischief in their bones – they thrill