Dani Fisher

Silence

White. One can argue that this is the sound of all noise coming together, silently. Which, I suppose is true. I’ve decided today that I am going to experience the sounds of the earth, of the trees, and the animals that get to hear this all day long. It must be pleasant for them, keep them calm while it drives others mad. Walking out here, there is a distinct creak of the branches I step on, like a loose floorboard of this forest floor. I close my eyes and walk in the dark for a while, hoping to satisfy my sense of sound. It’s mesmerizing and disorienting and wonderful. The crunch of the leaves keeps me calm, knowing I am still on the ground of this dark world I now walk through. Just like the real world, too, I walk in the dark and the sounds of cars and keyboard keys and laughter keep me calm. Everything else in this strange world makes my skin crawl, a spider on my arm. I sit down on a damp rock, with moss on its sides, a blanket keeping it warm and safe. My eyes dart, tree to tree, leaf to leaf, rock to rock. Nothing is here but me. My eyelids fall and I listen. The sky whistles. The branches moan. The leaves rustle uncomfortably. The air is still and quiet and strangely dissatisfying. The sky was gray when I came out, now after closing my eyes and keeping them shut, I can imagine it is now a stark white with light gray splotches running over it horizontally, like static. It’s peaceful, and quiet, and noisy, and so very full of longing. I don’t think I could do it. I think I would go mad.