There are... plenty of distractions that seem to love taking advantage of quiet moments.

[If he stays still too long, he feels it. The disorientation, the glimmers of light and glamour. He imagines if he were the one staring silently at the pot, he'd lose his mind too.

If he still had a grip on it in the first place.]

A distraction from our distractions, then? Christine spent her time reciting her play to me. Perhaps it's your turn.