There was a time when I thought I had nothing to say, so I didn’t say anything. I waited for inspiration; the right time; for something that would push me from saying “nothing” to saying “something”.
Months passed and nothing was written.
On a whim, I thought: hey, why not just open the “add post” button and see what comes out? And I did.
And this post was born.
Despite the dearth of posts on edonn.com, I don’t find that I’ve been writing less. I’ve been writing more, if anything, but that writing’s gone into ChatGPT/Gemini/Claude.
The mechanics of “creating” without anything really being created. Not always, anyways.
And I must admit that “writing as therapy” (informal therapy, lest you be quick to judge) has somewhat been monopolised by AI. Where previously I would write here on edonn.com or some private journal, I would now often just “run it past” Claude to see what it thought (comes with responses too! A godly-level of interactivity you wouldn’t have imagined just a few years ago.)
No, it’s not quite the same though. Because sometimes thoughts are meant to be stewed upon; to be open-ended. To be left unfinished; for life and dreams to take over and
Donn, fragments 
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