Words run down the page like water down a ditch already dug. Mercury, the part that thinks fast and names without tripping, pours at a clean angle toward the meridian, the visible heading your work crests toward. The saying and the public peak run one channel. Step into your vocation and the explanation shows up on its own, as though the sentence stood ready-made. The world hears you tell your work with an ease that seems to cost you nothing. That clarity you never fight. It comes given. In it, the way you show up in public sounds like someone speaking a tongue they have known their whole life, plain and unhurried, the other half-understanding before you finish the line.