As Lucy stares out of her window, she thinks of what Chaim Potok once said,
“I’ve begun to realise that you can listen to silence and learn from it. It has a quality and a dimension all its own.”
Then why is it that humans always have to hear their own voice? Is silence so threatening to them that it has to be shut down, eliminated? Does not silence has a meaning, more than words can express? She wonders why people who understand words so well, are so afraid of an empty sheet, a blank screen, a silent house? Is just sitting in blissful silence not a conversation of its own. Does my silence tell you not how comfortable I am? Does my silence shows you not my inner most self? Do I not reveal more by being silent than when I hide behind my words, create a wall of white noise, chatter ear clogging sounds. Does not mindless words numb the brain? Inhibits us from realising what matters most? To share a silent moment of being who we are.