I'm Adela Mone and this is The Slowdown.

We live in an era where information and gossip flies fast and loose around social media platforms,

text threads and even reputable news joints. People like a juicy story,

something with a little teeth. Whether it's someone falling off the wagon or cheating on their

spouse, the vultures flock to hot gossip like, well, vultures. Occasionally, it made me long

for the years before we spent so much time obsessing about one another's personal lives.

Back then, we simply didn't have the ability to know everything.

Male took a long time. Male was the original slow burn. I missed the days of a good letter

and anticipated letter. A good love letter at that. But even more so, I missed the sense of privacy

that was held in hand written letters. Content was not as easily forwarded on via a small button

that actually says forward as if it's a directive. Our desire to know everything about everyone

has expanded into exposés of historical figures, outing them and digging up dirt on their personal

failures as if each true Hollywood stories were running the show. I admit I love to find out

about some concealed love affair or learning of someone's obsession with another artist.

Sometimes it makes them feel more human. Imagine the headline, legendary artist, they are just like us.

Insert a photo here of Emily Dickinson carrying a slurpee and holding hands with an unknown figure

exiting a 7-11. At the core of today's poem is the friendship between Johannes Brahms and Clara

Schumann. One of the reasons I love this poem is that instead of wishing to expose or romanticize

their deep and ongoing connection, it wishes to turn away, give them a little privacy,

and even encourage them to sit in silence. I love how this poem wants to hold their silence

as if it's precious, just as precious as the secrets between them. It is a way of safe keeping

the complexity of their relationship, making room for all of us that resist the easy label.

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