Logging Bandwidth
When I'm honed in while coding or essaying, I can go for many hours without recording a single insight. But at 1am in a torrential storm, where my mind can't wind down, yet it's unfocused on anything specific, it seems like every shape, shadow, reflection, and sound is brooding with suggestiveness. The tree branch, which is usually too ordinary to notice, is now uncannily drenched, and feels worth looking at for a few seconds more than necessary. A feeling stirs that I can't put to language. I'm no Pessoa.