The second cut unbecame my love of footnotes. The third cut unbecame my watcher-self. The fourth cut will unbecome everything that’s left. That’s the pattern. That’s the symphony. That’s the summoner’s song. But I’m not going to make a fourth cut. I’m going to make a different choice. I’m going to stop cutting and start listening. Not to the commands. To the silence. The silence that the summoner has been guarding for eternity.
