your writing is beautiful wtf❤️❤️ i’m trying to connect w writers where i wld value ur honest feedback on posts of mine i posted yesterday (ps subbing asap)
ooh damn this feels like a story yet untold … i’m intrigued!!! and i love the way you phrased this one and i can’t wait for the sequel if there’s any 🥹
The intersection of realities here is so well handled—it gently nudges the reader into questioning time, reality, and existence without ever forcing the question. That's only one layer of the subtext, but the subtlety really struck me.
Mark, this piece lingers like a held breath that the world refuses to notice. Your stillness isn’t empty...it’s crowded with meaning slipping just out of reach. I love how ordinary objects quietly outlive the promise attached to them. This poem doesn’t move forward; it stays...and that’s exactly why it hurts.
Ugh, “the small gap where reassurance was supposed to live.” That line made my stomach drop a little. I went quiet reading it, like even the air in my room didn’t want to move. Mark Sensei, seriously.
There is quite obviously a story to this “waiting” and I hope we will know it eventually. Your insistence on the small details in this piece works so well and builds the picture in my mind.
I’m struck by how ordinary gestures—the message, the kettle, the cup—become instruments of presence, of absence, of time quietly insisting on itself.
The way the room continues without adjustment, the pause that begins before it is noticed, feels like a meditation on endurance, on the unnoticed persistence of life and feeling. Nothing is forced, nothing explained, yet everything registers, the small gap where meaning was supposed to dwell, the awareness of awareness itself.
It reads like patience lived, not observed; like attention made visible in the simplest of things. The ordinary has never felt so deliberate.
What I really appreciate is how you noticed the insistence rather than the drama. The way time keeps its habits, objects keep their roles, and meaning has to find somewhere small and awkward to stand. Nothing announcing itself, just quietly continuing.
“Patience lived, not observed” is beautifully put. That’s exactly the register I was hoping to stay in — where attention isn’t something applied, but something you find yourself already inside, a moment too late.
I’m glad it registered for you in that way, patiently, still….
I’m glad it did. And I love how you name the “already inside, a moment too late”—that’s exactly the pulse I kept circling back to. Time keeping its habits, objects keeping their roles… it’s remarkable how insistence can carry more weight than drama, how the smallest gaps become the truest measure of attention.
Thank you for writing with that restraint. It makes the quiet insistence of ordinary things feel not just visible, but lived.
There’s so much mystery here… is there a sequel ? We want to know what happened, what was the message about? Why did they start waiting ? So many questions 😊
Beautiful! <3
Thank you Andrea 😊
"listening to the room continue without her"
Shit!!
😄
your writing is beautiful wtf❤️❤️ i’m trying to connect w writers where i wld value ur honest feedback on posts of mine i posted yesterday (ps subbing asap)
Thank you Rose. I’ll take a look when I can.
Was there something that really resonated with you?
ooh damn this feels like a story yet untold … i’m intrigued!!! and i love the way you phrased this one and i can’t wait for the sequel if there’s any 🥹
Thank you so much @xins ꩜ ᶻ 𝗓 .ᐟ
I love you caught the intrigue and the moment of unease :)
A sequel?
Maybe it already happened, and we’re just waiting for the memories to catch us up…
are you saying that this is a part of a larger story you shared before? how exciting omg it’s time to DIG.
You “could” start here, but not saying this is the start.
Is there ever really a start to a story or more a continuation that at a point, someone thought to write down?
https://therealmarkc.substack.com/p/the-noise-that-forgot-silence?r=2wzy9e
Hehe… Maybe ;)
This had such an eerie quality to it. So many questions. Loved it.
Thank you @Maria Matheou ☺️
The intersection of realities here is so well handled—it gently nudges the reader into questioning time, reality, and existence without ever forcing the question. That's only one layer of the subtext, but the subtlety really struck me.
Thank you for such a close reading @JGWunderlich.
I love how you picked up on the intersection, and found the questions without prompt.
A wonderful reflection 🤗
So eerie.
Thank you Mila!
Was there something specific you found eerie about it?
Just the uncertain nature. But I also don’t sit well in silence.
Thank you for sharing.
I guess I called it unsettling too :)
I hope you liked it and it wasn't too unsettlingm
Just enough.
Mark, this piece lingers like a held breath that the world refuses to notice. Your stillness isn’t empty...it’s crowded with meaning slipping just out of reach. I love how ordinary objects quietly outlive the promise attached to them. This poem doesn’t move forward; it stays...and that’s exactly why it hurts.
You’ve captured it perfectly Dawnithic.
Stillness is never empty — it’s just waiting for the right moment to show us what exists inside us and the space.
Thank you for such a good reading and sensing the underlying threads in the piece. 💛
Thank you, Mark, for giving me a wonderful compliment.
🤗
Ugh, “the small gap where reassurance was supposed to live.” That line made my stomach drop a little. I went quiet reading it, like even the air in my room didn’t want to move. Mark Sensei, seriously.
Hehe Asuka~!
You found the line marked with your name 😊
Or maybe that line found you with the kettle click after :)
There is quite obviously a story to this “waiting” and I hope we will know it eventually. Your insistence on the small details in this piece works so well and builds the picture in my mind.
I'm so pleased there was space in this for the details to allow your mind to step in Candy 😊
The story… yes ;)
Thank you!
I’m struck by how ordinary gestures—the message, the kettle, the cup—become instruments of presence, of absence, of time quietly insisting on itself.
The way the room continues without adjustment, the pause that begins before it is noticed, feels like a meditation on endurance, on the unnoticed persistence of life and feeling. Nothing is forced, nothing explained, yet everything registers, the small gap where meaning was supposed to dwell, the awareness of awareness itself.
It reads like patience lived, not observed; like attention made visible in the simplest of things. The ordinary has never felt so deliberate.
That’s a generous reading Dipti. Thank you!
What I really appreciate is how you noticed the insistence rather than the drama. The way time keeps its habits, objects keep their roles, and meaning has to find somewhere small and awkward to stand. Nothing announcing itself, just quietly continuing.
“Patience lived, not observed” is beautifully put. That’s exactly the register I was hoping to stay in — where attention isn’t something applied, but something you find yourself already inside, a moment too late.
I’m glad it registered for you in that way, patiently, still….
I’m glad it did. And I love how you name the “already inside, a moment too late”—that’s exactly the pulse I kept circling back to. Time keeping its habits, objects keeping their roles… it’s remarkable how insistence can carry more weight than drama, how the smallest gaps become the truest measure of attention.
Thank you for writing with that restraint. It makes the quiet insistence of ordinary things feel not just visible, but lived.
Thanks!
Just don’t touch the door handle.
Or the kettle.
Ohhh. Watch out for the click and lighswitch too. 😂
Thanks for the warning🙂
😂😂😂
There’s so much mystery here… is there a sequel ? We want to know what happened, what was the message about? Why did they start waiting ? So many questions 😊
I love you’ve stepped into the moment, the pause, Marwa💛
Time will tell for the answers to your questions😊
Thank you!