Silence

Silence. The eerie stillness of the air. The ear straining to hear. The swishing pulse that quiets a weary child to sleep. The calming waves of nothingness clouding the ears of a child grasping a shell to her ear. The odd quiet cooling the atmosphere, like a fog enveloping the City.

Silence. Argued to be the most beautiful thing heard in a lifetime, yet is it truly possible to hear something that is emptiness? Is there such thing as being able to hear...nothing?

There is no such thing, despite our yearning for peace and quiet in a world so full of noises. We are not alone. The air buzzes. Leaves rustle. Crickets chirp. Sand stirs. Cars vroom. Air conditioning hums. The ringing in our ears never stops. Humankind has thought there is such thing as nothing, but there is always something.

People search for nothing. Trying to find serenity. Then surely, nothing is a thing, something you can find, something you can almost touch, but once you do, it changes.

But there will never be silence on earth. And there never was.

Blasphemous Rumors

Let this be my "42," my perfect utopia, the "matters I have diligently analysed and pondered for a long time, and now, having summarized them in a little book, I am sending them to Your Magnificence." (The Prince, Niccolo Machiavelli)

Let this be my dream turned reality, the flow of consciousness I never could say, for all the dreamers who could never wake up, for the muse begging me to do what I used to love before.

Because this fantasy is where I want to be, where I can go, but now it will be even harder to leave. These little blurbs swimming in my mind, in between memory and the fuzz almost forgotten, cannot be abandoned.

So begins the telling of the blasphemous rumors.