During the weekend, I stepped into Benaroya Hall for a spring program with the Seattle Symphony, and for a couple of hours, everything else fell away.
There’s something about live orchestral music that doesn’t just fill a room, it fills space inside you that you didn’t realize had gone quiet. The kind of silence that only exists before the first note, the collective inhale of a room waiting, and then the slow unraveling of something precise and deeply human.
Spring felt present in the music, lighter in places, but still layered with emotion. It reminded me that not everything needs to be said out loud to be understood. I left the hall with that familiar stillness, the kind that lingers after something meaningful, already thinking about the next scene I need to write.
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