Sometimes being present
does not require being heard.
Low White Light finds Lisa Coles moving quietly through a world that never quite stops talking. Rather than competing with the noise around her, she finds comfort in restraint, accepting that a life does not need to be loud, certain or fully understood to leave some evidence that it was lived.
Streetlights hum like they know my name
Windows blink but never say the same
I walk home slow, just to feel the night
Every thought dimmed down to low white light
There’s a comfort in the quiet noise
In broken beats and half-made choices
I don’t need to be loud to stay
I don’t need to be right to remain
If I disappear into the sound
Promise I was here, somehow
Coffee rings on a borrowed desk
Old regrets in a foreign text
Everyone’s talking, no one’s near
Words fall flat when they hit the air
There’s a rhythm in holding back
In letting moments slip through cracks
I don’t need to be loud to stay
I don’t need to be right to remain
If I disappear into the sound
Promise I was here, somehow
Static breath, the night exhales
I lean into what never tells