Silence

I tend to think of silence as a weighty thing; the place where I deal with important or serious matters. This is simply my own shortcoming, for it can be light and joyful.

There was a movie I once saw, I cannot remember its name, in which a character talks throughout the film about his novel. Two other characters put him off, again and again, and by the end of the film, they finally give in and let him read to them from his work – the novel he’s been working on “for ten years.”

He reads about two paragraphs worth. It’s excellent: evocative, with sentences that are like melodies. They ask him to go on, and he says, “That’s it!”

Then he adds, “I’m thinking of taking out all the adjectives.”

I understand why – it’s adjectives that corner us. Silence is heavy, or it is light, it is boring or welcome or whatever. In truth of course, it is none of those things, and by applying a label we, I, limit my experience of it.

Now snow – snow is another matter altogether. Snow is GOOD. (Except of course on weekends.)

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