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Friday, September 15, 2000

Born of Silence

A thinker's sanctuary is a quiet room, a sensory deprivation chamber where whispers of ghosts from within are amplified to fill the void, to populate the world of the imagination. Perhaps it is my own natural lack of focus, a wary hunter's mentality rather than a secure farmer's, but every external noise, every motion, every flash of light, every anything that could possibly imply the eventual necessity of my attention, pushes these ghosts back, fades them into silence as if they were my secret demons backing into the shadows to hide from someone coming near.

Bring me a storm, to send the animals into hiding, to keep the humans in their homes, to mask out the world, and create a sheltered space safely partitioned from the world by a shield of white noise. Either that, or just give me my own planet.

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