the sharp edged, brutal silence of living alone, is often softened by the sounds of the live’s of others. the elephants that live above me, who march the length of their flat, as if in search of the next watering hole. the car alarm of the little metro, parked at the edge of the drive, that goes off when someone sneezes. the laugh of the children that live down the hall and make each pass by my door a parade.
i have my own noises too.
a whispered i love you to photographs. a hum in the shower; some tune i remember from my youth. the incessant march of kilowatts from an ice-maker not producing ice. the rolling boil in the kettle, another cup of tea for one.
if i did not live alone, these snippets of life would not be heard. the elephants march unnoticed, the car alarm unheeded, the laughter undiscovered.
even in it’s brutality, the silence is not unwelcome.