Architect of Silence: There is a ringing in my ears. No heavy music is playing, yet the world has been muted for me. I look at the people around the table. They cut each other off, straining to make their voices louder. As if the one who speaks the most will somehow be the most right. Without showing respect to a single word, they simply push themselves forward. And I, I just watch.
I look at the lip movements of the girl at the next table. "I drink my coffee sugarless and as dark as it gets," she says. She wears an expression as though this bitterness will somehow make her deeper, more unattainable. It is almost amusing. On the other side, a couple. The girl eagerly talks about some "heart-wrenching" romance novel, chaining her sentences together. I can see the urge to escape in the boy's eyes. He is dying to speak of philosophy, of the heavy books he has underlined. But he remains silent. He bites his lower lip so hard that the color is almost fading from it. He is exhausted. I can feel that tension, that invisible wall.
I see them. I analyze each of them, one by one, down to the finest detail. But I am not there. I am neither in the conversations of those beside me, nor inside those counterfeit interests. The ticking of the clock’s seconds sounds far more honest to me than these people's sentences.
They think I am lonely. Perhaps they even pity me. "I wonder why she doesn't speak?" they think. Little do they know that I breathe within this solitude. While they scream just to avoid getting lost in the crowd, I find myself in my own silence. Solitude is no longer a punishment for me. It is the greatest luxury. And within this luxury, I am more at peace than I have ever been.
Alone with myself, complete within myself.
