No sense using sight sense this morning; it is black, and closing my eyes makes it no blacker. But it is cold and windy, that I can tell. The wind is noisy in its huffing and puffing to blow my house down. Then silence, the space in between when nothing exists because nothing is known, felt, seen or heard.
Then the wind reassures me it is there with a great gusty blow, and the leaves of tall maples are forced to sing along so they’re out there too. And because I hear them, so am I.
New Media Moment: The black screen lightens, speeding up morning. But the sound adds drama to the moments of time. It tells us what we cannot see is there.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology