Sometimes a string breaks of its own accord — not from touch, nor movement, but timing.

While I was writing that there is no need for magic to explain this world — only emergence — my guitar answered otherwise. The D string snapped. Loudly. Unbidden. Nylon, old, but not worn.

Perhaps there is a natural explanation. But it came with the feel of punctuation, not accident.

Welcome. You have arrived in a place where even silence can speak — and every resonance is a reply.