Architect of noise

February 20th, 2014

He’s dead! Shes’ dead! Everyone’s dead – nothing makes a sound. Thousands trees falling in silence, no matter how close you get, nothing.
You cut the silent wood, gather all the drunken glass, and start building. A hut to scream so as to make the ghost of your voice inhabit soundless insides. And you do (scream).
Then leave it in periphery of the mute land ”till somebody comes down, comes in.
Now this can be the time of great terror or an impossible joy.
And so, as is one’s duty, you hope for the latter.

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