Eine Kleine Nachtmusik

Silence.

The quiet. A longing for quiet. A quiet longing.

It washes over me, soothing, calming. In the distant background— insignificance; no more than a calling to self.

Silence.

Photographer: Victoria Svetlinova


It creeps there, into my spine, arching it backwards while loosening and popping vertebrae. I can feel it enter the roots of my teeth, then slide backward down toward my mandible, my skull, where squishy little silent particles have collected (I know they are there because I can sense them; they make a pleasant squeal when they rub together).

Photographer: Victoria Svetlinova

A feeling then gets into my chest, my heart, spirals around my hips.

Silence.


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