Silence is to be treasured. But do we ever experience complete silence? And do we want to? When there is silence, there is usually the wind somewhere about, or the sea, or a distant engine , or the sound of breathing, or your heart beating.
In Waitrose this morning, I realize that I still feel pleased with myself, when "pin ok" comes up on a credit card reader.
Now that Wimbledon is over, there will be a rest from the sounds of tennis on the tv calling you to the room, when you have taken a break from it. The crowd-sounds, like waves breaking or a lorry passing outside the window; the shriek or grunt of the players as they strike the ball ( a new feature of the game, this), the drone of the commentators. I won't miss them, but I enjoyed them while they were there.
1 comment:
There are rooms created which contain the nearest you'll will find to complete silence; apparently it's unpleasant, a thick, dead sensation. ( There was an interesting programme on the radio about soundscapes and 'endangered' sounds the other week).
'Code bon', I like it too. But then I'm dangerously susceptible to forgetting figures.
Post a Comment