Some think that rivers of words pouring through a mouth are great things and that there needs to be the words always flowing, always pouring out of the mans mouth, running all over the place, even onto the floor and underfoot.
I think that the gift of having something to say that is of value anyway, comes from a place deep inside. Pithy or thoughtful.
What does one do when the deep insides are simply still?
There is no great pain or deep sorrow there, no sense of loss or entitlement. Simply a good day that was had and you can add that to a good week.
Oh there is much much work going on, externally and internally, with deadlines and time frames and such.
But inside, just quiet.
And when it is quiet internally, it should be quiet externally.
Unless one has something to prove.