What silence can be?
A moment where the solitude grows deeper and I can hear my own rhythm from within, that is.
The fragments of thought, the splinters of a word, interlaced with the stench of old pain and the already broken screaming of sorrow, that is.
The silence lingered in the air, thick and heavy. Wherever I moved, it followed, always watching, never leaving, like my own personal shadow.
In my sleeplessness, I was drowned in silence. My mind sank into deep isolation, the function of my thinking left long ago, and my ears started to become accustomed to the absence of sound.
It was very dark here - not from a particular point of view, but from my mental state. The tears wanted to roll down but they were just too stubborn. My face wanted to contort into a hurtful expression, but the pretentious smile that was plastered seemed to freeze in place.
