Nothing ungovernable, it’s more like a hum. The hum of I’m not feeling at my best, of can’t get that argument out of my head, of what if, what if, what if; a hum that I eventually forget is there at all, even though it never ceases to soundtrack my every move.

I’m maintained and restricted by the ability to tune out whatever is suboptimal. By now I know it’s a common early-childhood survival skill that, while seeking to conserve me, grants me the capacity to self-destruct. When I was younger, I would only hear the quiet it gave me. These days, the hum.

I’ve been trying to relieve it of its duties.

One way to tune out the suboptimal is to put another sound in its place. The Internet has everything I need. More podcasts than I’ll ever be able to finish, countless YouTube videos of American millennials talking about their digital memory planner setup.

Every shade of white noise. “Can you even imagine what the phrase ‘Spotify has the best library sounds’ would sound like to someone from 2004?” Anja chuckles.

And of course, yet another rerun of my favorite show. I think I’ve listened to all of The Office: US seven times in the last three months.

This morning, things feel different. Maybe it’s because I noticed that yesterday was 666 days after that big moment I had on a hilltop in the Algarve, seeing the mechanics of the hum up close for the first time. Maybe the fact that 666 holds significance for me should tell you all you need to know about the hum.

This morning, things feel different. I’m up early, find recreation in a problem I’ve been trying to solve, and for a change, I don’t turn on whatever I usually do to drown out the hum. It’s me, the dog, the quiet morning street. The place I call home can be so still, even if Canal Pride is hours away. I forget what Amsterdam sounds like sometimes.