People often confuse quiet with silence.
Silence can be empty, or awkward, or loud with the things we’re not saying.
Quiet is something else.
Quiet is deliberate. Chosen. It’s the pause between people who trust each other enough not to fill space for the sake of it.
Quiet is me lighting a candle at 6am while Da Lat is still wrapped in mist.
It’s the half-second after someone says, “I see you,” and means it.
I write from that place—not silence, but quiet.
And if you’re here, maybe you’ve been looking for a little of that, too.
