A gallery is an argument made of absences. What hangs on the wall matters; what was left in the storage room matters more. Editing is the same art, practiced on sentences instead of canvases.

Curation is subtraction with conviction. The curator who cannot say no ends with a warehouse, not an exhibition. The writer who cannot cut ends with a diary, not an essay.

Every piece you remove makes the ones that remain louder.

I now edit my drafts the way a curator hangs a show: fewer pieces, more wall. White space is not empty. It is where the reader breathes.