An old notebook lies open, the handwriting yours from years back, the phrases ones you could recite half asleep. The south node is not a body in the sky but the familiar ground you come from, here the well-grooved way you explain yourself, the running commentary you have always trusted to keep up. Mercury leaves a soft gap onto that ground, a door to lay down the chatter you no longer need. Reach for the old fluency when it actually helps, then let the rest fall quiet. Not every thought needs saying the moment it arrives. Close the notebook when the page is done. The quiet is there for you, taken up on the day you choose to stop narrating and simply let the room be.