Come Back
“I have no words.” Four small fragments of a sentence that, without saying much, somehow tell everything. They hold the weight of a silence that isn’t emptiness, but an overflow of those moments when our thoughts and emotions are too much to contain. But words are not always needed. Because when we face something larger than our usual pain, we lose the map. We stop knowing how to name what we feel. And all we can do is wait and give time. For Aunce, that silence became sound and another language. Last year, Aunce was exploring new synthesizers, searching for sparks of inspiration. She found one, the ARP 2500, that immediately captured her attention. But during that time period, her brother passed away. There is always silence and emptiness when someone you love disappears. The same void that usually people respectfully fill with “I have no words.” Aunce, too, was speechless. I’ve always found it contradictory how people fall silent when inside they are screaming. It’s not indifference, it’s not apathy. It’s the feeling of being too small in front of something immense that will be common to all of us. But pain, if you let it, finds new ways to speak. For Aunce, those synthesizers became her inner self. They turned into a bridge, a way to let the unspoken find air, to turn loss into resonance.