Sounds

449 words

I look outside, look through the window. I see dancing, hear the sounds of music, the monotony of the wind carrying vine branches, shamelessly empty. I see and hear the sound of morphing, morphing from a flower into a seed, into an apple, an apple tree. I see asbestos roofing, I see the seasons passing… such a strange guest, leaving you with wear and tear, resistance and regret. I see rust and paint, old brushes left and forgotten, layer upon layer, story upon story, relationships aging like fine old wine, left and forgotten, only for me and you to so rarely remember and admire. And dust, all dust, it doesn’t feel like death; what is valuable and aged supposedly gets better.

Gambsheim, France · 19 August 2026 · Details

But bitter is the taste of things left and forgotten. The sounds, the pressing, the red juice flowing—what was supposed to keep us together made us falter, alter—are stored in the city of dreams to be left and forgotten. What was supposed to taste sweet tastes bitter, or tastes like nothing, tastes like silence, sounds like silence, feels like the glass has melted, and it sounds like silence. Deaf and blind, it feels like silence in the dark; it is so dark… the sound is dark, the glass is dark, the time is sound, and tick, tick, tick, tick, in my mind, no sound, what sound? What sound? What does silence sound like?

If it sounds like nothing, what does nothing sound like? Silence? Is the absence of sound nothing or silence? Does sound make silence exist? Or does silence give sound a meaning? Or am I too deaf to hear the river flowing, the raindrops falling, the vineyard branches growing, or the apples rotting? But if what I’m hearing is silence, does everything become nothing, and does nothing become everything? Does light fade away into darkness, and darkness into light?

But if I still hear the left and forgotten, are they still left and forgotten? Maybe I’ve just grown old, deaf and blind, and silence sounds like nothing, and nothing sounds like silence… And if I can’t see silence, then it must be nothing, because I can see nothing, and it looks like silence. What is the sound of a dead relationship? What are the chords of a silent friendship? Is it silence? Or is it nothing? If I can hear the distance, if I can hear the memories, if I can hear the wind, the clouds, the roads, the words, the noise, if I can hear the old, why does it sound like silence? Why does it sound like nothing? Why is the sound of silence so loud?