The silence depressed me. it wasn’t the silence of silence. It was my own silence.
I knew perfectly well the cars were making a noise, and the people in them and behind the lit windows of the buildings were making a noise, and the river was making a noise, but I couldn’t hear a thing. The city hung in my window., flat as a poster, glittering and blinking, but it might as well not have been there at all.
— May 22, 2024 08:33AM
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