The silence is horrible. It’s been this way for hours, a day; it seems like years.
There used to be noise here. There are memories of conversations that actually took place at this very spot. Beautiful conversations, as well as those more commonly described as smalltalk. Wars have been waged here, peace was found here.
Some have said silence is golden. It’s really a situational dependancy. There are times when it is silence that gives enlightenment. There are times when silence brings on madness.
I am caught between those two times. Caught, in the silence.