Thursday 21 August 2008

Just after dusk

if the wind drops there is a moment of profound stillness.


The quiet is so intense that the only sounds audible are the stretching and creaking of muscles and sinews as you move your head to try to isolate any discrete vibration from the silence. The passing of your breath through your nostrils and the contractions of the zinc guttering in the cooling evening are the loudest articulations of the air waves.

It is absolutely noiseless.

And then the owls start.