The chair by the window was empty when I returned. A draft whispered across the pages of a notebook left open. I didn’t move it. I didn’t close it.

The wind pushed the door open before I could. Inside, dust danced in the sunlight like it had waited decades for a visitor.

Fatherhood is a battlefield where the enemy isn’t out there...

You live in the corners in the pause before I sit down, in the chair I don’t choose, in the way my body still orients around something that isn’t there anymore.

Welcome to Fragments Fragments is a place to practice witness. ● Not performance. ● Not polish. ● Not explanation. Here, writing is allowed to be partial. Thoughts may arrive unfinished. Silence is not a failure. You do not need: ● Consistency ● Skill ● A story arc ● An introduction ● You are not required to post. ● You are not expected to keep up. This is a place to notice what remains when we stop trying to make meaning too quickly. If you choose to begin, begin simply. You may: ● Share a single sentence ● Post something incomplete ● Sit quietly and read ● If you respond to others, do so by witnessing quote a line that stayed with you. Nothing more is required. Fragments will move slowly. That is intentional. Welcome. ■ Head to the classroom to use the workbook And read my full fragments as I write them.