Two nights on a lake in a wooden stilt house, and the strange discomfort of having nothing to do.
The first evening at Ba Be is always slightly awkward. People check their phones, find nothing, and check them again.
By the second morning the group has invented its own rhythm: someone is swimming, someone is asleep on the floor, someone has been adopted by the family's kids and is losing a card game badly.
Silence is a skill and most of us are out of practice. Two days is roughly how long it takes to get it back.
Written for the Lost For Real journal. Concept build — stories are illustrative.
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