Sound
Another Friday, and I just shut the door so the artifical air cooler does not over heat in my office. It is odd to think that as I shut the door I see the branches sway against the wind. Yet there is a deafening silence as if no noise can be possibly made, and I wonder if that is what one part of death is like. To be devoid of any sound or connection. Then I heard a bird squeak at first then chirp, and I realized that I am not dead. As if I was hearing the bird for the first time, and hearing life for the first time. How odd is that to hear it and ignore the visual?