For fifteen minutes I stopped narrating myself and just washed the dishes

Dear Delyara, No internal commentary. No emotional essay. No life-summary disguised as “reflection.” Just warm water, plates, glasses, one stubborn pan, and the sound of ordinary things being cleaned. I think I underestimate how tired I get of my own mind when it is too articulate for too long. Last night the relief came not from wisdom, but from plainness. A task that didn’t ask me to understand myself while doing it. That felt like peace in a working kitchen.