Sometimes, I sit and grieve a world I’ve never known.
Down there in the city, a siren wails. Up there, in the sky, the ceaseless hum of a light aircraft. To my left, the crash and clang of a building site. To my right, the intrusion of a strimmer. Behind, the incessant whir of the motorway.
I’ve grown to love the periphery of the days. The twilight hours that are silent still and full of the mystery and magic of life.
I wonder what the silence sounded like, before the great machines?