Stop what you're doing. Don't move. Not a muscle, not a twitch. Dead still. Stillness. Or is it? Does the din of traffic ever die? Does the sound of the atmosphere, as imperfect as we've made it, ever subside into nothing? Do people ever end, ever stop to exist in a space of time for longer than 5 minutes, away from you? That would be a heaven of sorts. No people. Just you, I guess the thoughts will come as the mind ticks into circles. The warmth of others makes you coldThere is no such thing as silence. Pure, true, absolute silence. Not in the (dead) night. Not in ever. Overpopulation storms ahead, meaning that groan of homo sapien interaction comes with, which is further attached to relationships to be formed. We entwine ourselves into people and abandon possibly abadon (some surender) their right to complete silence. "Silence, something about that makes me sick, coz silence can be vioelnce sort of like a slit wrist" barked Zach de la Rocha. He's right.
The assault of mass media fuels the imbroglio, true, it's the essence of the profession, but it's been superceded now by the mumbled roar of stupidity. A cacophony generated from hot air, a general irreverance for everyone and a neanderthal-like obsequiousness.
Should we shudder at the thought of a future controlled by these types, the silence robbers who corrupt us of that blessing and beautiful solace of stillness.
These days we've (those who crave silence) been displaced from the public to toilets. Cubicles have become the confessionals of our bowels and the last bastion of time to ourselves almost a hundred percent free of the world's noise.
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