Thoughts that appear unannounced.
Sometimes a thought arrives without any introduction.
You don’t remember reading it, or hearing it, or thinking it before. It just shows up—fully formed, like it’s been waiting behind a door you didn’t know was there.
Memory is porous that way.
A phrase from a stranger’s conversation, the atmosphere of a room you barely noticed, a headline you read in passing—any of it can seed an idea you mistake for your own. Later, you find yourself repeating it, unable to say exactly where it came from.
I’ve started to appreciate the power of influence without attribution.
The quiet way ideas circulate, shedding names as they move. A piece of language can pass through dozens of people and still feel intimate when it lands. It doesn’t always need a signature to matter.
Not every impulse needs to be traced back to its origin.
Some feelings are more interesting when you stop interrogating them. When you let them stand on their own—unclaimed, unverified, slightly out of focus.
Some echoes belong to no one, and that’s enough.
Longitudes Unclaimed 