“We all know that sensation of life slowing down, of being suspended in time, of being outside the rhythm of ordinary life, but underwater, that is the way things really are.” -author Akiko Busch, as quoted in this New York Times review of two books about silence, a year and change ago.
I bookmarked the page back then because I found even the review itself gave me a moment of quiet and thus peace. Now, yearning for interaction, hoping one day soon my toddler can play with other children and wishing to feel work as more than a simulation (a feeling increasing each week), I would welcome noise.
About the two books, the reviewer closes, “Silence and invisibility, they insist, are part of our everyday lives — the place our mind wanders when we’re in the shower or out jogging, the feeling we get looking out the window of an airplane, the pleasure of becoming a stranger on a bustling city street.”
(To be on a bustling city street! To fly in an airplane! To jog without avoidance! Or, if you’re me, not jogging, to not feel sad mannered joggers are fleeing into the street.)
And then: “We take these pauses, these moments of exhalation, for granted, but we should clutch them close. They are our armor against the onslaught.”
(To exhale publicly! To clutch anyone close. To wear less armor.)