The ambient noise in my memory palace at some point became primarily podcasts, but—every once in a while—I’ll hear something that sounds like it could have been part of a quick swell of horns and have a half-formed thought* that is located in a very specific and a very cluttered corner, and then I can literally feel myself being swept up by a tiny tempest of obsession.
It usually passes eventually.
It’s probably for the best. I pretty much never sweep.
*While they are kind of distinguishable, I feel that at this point I don’t know enough to accurately identify the 16.