What does the silence say? Is the whole story the compilation of things we allow to come off our lips and the things we don’t? We’ll never know them—never know the details left missing and why. What are the options not chosen and why were they not taken? I know my own silences with intimacy and still don’t often know their origins. Are the thoughts left out moving around at a lower volume? Did I turn them down or did they enter my head that way—softly?