Robert Dutch

Echoes from the Silence of Those Who Read It

When I first started writing Teeth in the Silence, I never imagined it would speak back.

But it has.

Each review, each message, each line from a stranger has become another echo in the dark; proof that the book didn’t end on its last page. It kept breathing through the people who found it.

These are some of the voices that answered back:

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“This book didn’t make me feel better — it made me feel understood.”

— Patty, Amazon Verified Purchase

“His poems...

I’ve learned that silence isn’t empty.
It remembers.

You can try to bury it under conversation, laughter, a stranger’s music leaking through your walls, but it listens. It learns the weight of everything you never said, and it keeps score in echoes.

When I wrote Teeth in the Silence, I thought I was chasing ghosts. But I was wrong. The ghosts were chasing me. They wore familiar faces and spoke in familiar rooms, and every time I tried to outwrite them, they just waited for the pen to stop...

There’s a certain kind of magic that happens when words are spoken instead of read.

The page becomes breath.

The silence between lines turns into heartbeat.

When I first started recording Teeth in the Silence, I knew it couldn’t be read by just anyone. The voice had to feel the weight of every pause, the ache, the restraint, the quiet fury beneath the language.

That’s when I heard Cornelius Clarke.

There’s something haunting and beautiful in his delivery, the way he lets a sentence linger, how...