"You're not so good at weekly dispatches," a voice in my head tells me as I think about sharing more regularly. It's really like that. Just like that. Voices telling me thus and such, bickering sometimes.
Slow morning as you wish. The sky is robin's egg and the clouds are daubs of chalky gray. A cool, damp breeze pushes through the screen. Tiny cairns on the windowsill, a relic from Alaska. The dishwasher whirs in the background as you sit there being slow as you wish.
There's a thing in sound engineering called the proximity effect. It has something to do with the frequency of sound changing the further you are from the source. It's why the sound of a motorcycle speeding past seems to change as it speeds by. I've learned that fear has a proximity effect.