I’ve started a new creative project called Seven Days of Silence.
The idea is deliberately simple: seven days of nothing, followed by one brief transmission.
For twenty-four hours, something appears. It might be a fragment of writing, an image, a recording, a story, an experiment, or something that doesn’t have a name yet. After those twenty-four hours, it disappears.
There is no public archive. Nothing sits there waiting to be discovered later. If you miss a transmission, you miss it.
That absence is part of the project.
Most things published online are expected to stay there indefinitely. They accumulate, compete for attention and become part of an ever-growing collection. Seven Days of Silence is meant to work differently. It isn’t a library, a feed or a catalogue of finished work.
It exists in intervals.
The countdown shows the silence between transmissions. It isn’t just announcing the next post; it makes the waiting visible. When the countdown reaches zero, the site changes. For one day, the transmission takes over the space. Then the silence starts again.
I wanted to make somewhere that removes some of the pressure to publish constantly. There is no need to maintain momentum, satisfy an algorithm or turn every passing idea into content. Each transmission can be completely different from the last. There doesn’t need to be a theme, a progression or even an explanation.
The project gives an idea a small window in which to exist — and then lets it go.
It also asks something slightly unusual of the person visiting: to return, pay attention and encounter whatever happens to be there at that particular moment.
Most of the time, nothing will be happening.
That isn’t an error or an empty space waiting to be filled.