I have charted so many others. Systems, thinkers, doctrines. But I’ve not yet charted this body. This way of seeing. This kind of loneliness. There is a quiet map waiting to be drawn — not for applause, not for publication — but for inheritable clarity.

What I gain is the ability to not pass this fog forward. And what I risk by avoiding it is a lineage of silence and self-doubt passed through my children’s veins.

The trial continues.