The Still Point in the Turning World.*
by Quinn te Samil
Some weeks whisper; others bruise. This one did both.
In the global north, inflation metrics ticked upward—modestly, but enough to agitate the sleepwalkers in suits. Central banks, reluctant to stir the pot too soon, issued statements dense with ambiguity. Their silence said more than their forecasts: wait, but don’t hope.
Meanwhile, the AI arms race entered another phase. A major Western player launched what it called “the most aligned model yet”—a phrase that no longer reassures but unsettles. The conversation is shifting. Less about power, more about control. Who aligns what, and for whom?
Overseas, two underreported conflicts crossed thresholds of visibility. In the Horn of Africa, grain convoys were turned back—again. And in Central Asia, a border dispute long assumed dormant began to flicker. It is the season of slow ignitions.
On the streets of São Paulo and Madrid, protestors moved in disciplined lines, faces masked less for anonymity than for symbolism. Their banners read like poetry with a clenched fist: We see. We remember. We remain.
And amid it all, an old satellite fell from orbit and burned quietly in the atmosphere. No casualties, no spectacle. Just a gentle reminder: not everything returns.
We are entering a time when events no longer explode—they accumulate. And those who notice too early are often mistaken for pessimists. But it is not pessimism to name the drift. It is preparation.
So pause. Recalibrate. The still point remains, even as the world spins harder.
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| Where motion devours meaning, she watches—not to escape, but to remember what stillness feels like. |
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