It’s only now, living in London, that I realise how loud the world actually is. I walk through the streets and I heard the dull buzz of cranes as they move into place; the droning of cars as they trawl past; the endless thudding of feet on the pavement; your wind holding as it twists and turns down the little streets. Alone it is another but all together it creates a symphony of noice that I can’t escape!
In a way, I love it. It reminds me of humanity’s existence, how close we can be to one another and our never ending desire to be noticed. Whilst, at the same time, it pounds on my head, causing me to crave the silence.
Silence. It’s a previous thing really. A thing which few people do not think about – that they don’t even realise is missing until they sit back and truly listen. My room is supposedly soundproof. Yet I can still hear the faint buzz of the world as I lie in bed at night. It’s a strange situation, really.
But when I truly crave the silence and return home, wrapped in bundles of clothing in an attempt to keep warm, with you by my side I realise that the silence that I’ve been craving, isn’t actually silence. The trees stretch and groan, shaking their leaves, branches snap and twist under little animals that patter across the ground and make tiny noises of distress or delight. That isn’t silence. That’s white noise. When you actually hear silence, true silence, it feels unnatural! It’s … strange to say … to silent and unnerving. What I know as silence still has some form of noise and I know that as time passes the noises that I here now will become a part of that silence as well. But still, to me at this moment in time that doesn’t feel like silence. How strange that what one person deems as silence, is something that others deem to be noisy.
A bizarre concept, wouldn’t you agree? How strange to think that, Autumn.
Book Total of 2016 – 79