15 juli 2015

19/12/14

I often think to myself what all the crackling, stuttering and belching sounds of this globe might sound like to anyone out there listening. Or; if we were to play but one piece of audio as if the globe itself were a speaker and the galaxies ears trembling impatiently to perceive the degree of our affliction - which piece would it be?
A cacophony of wails, sighs and moans. The trickling of savory tears escaping the ecstatics and the mothers. The grunts of fathers disobeyed and forgotten. The hum of morning traffic, the provoking tone of lullabies and the gashing of screaming babies. Wolves howling for their clan in the night forests and a lost calf aaoooing his majestic whale family in the vast waters.
A fire spitting and tools clinking. A rocket, launching. The thumps of knees hitting the ground, the snapping sound of spines bent over as heads bow and the faint thud of hands joined. A result of technology entering autodestruct by the same hands who eagerly created it and thus devouring another result. The beep a camera makes when recording ensues. The cracking of ice bidding drunken youth farewell. Panicked calls to emergency hotlines. An amorous yes and a muffled no.
Repressed exclamations. The sudden pause of an orator realizing there are no words. 
This NOISE in every fragment of a sound. And every fragment of a sound coming together in noise once again.
As to the degree of our affliction, I have little to add. The realization of its nature is as disturbing as it is calming. If there is anything listening, I am unsure to as if it would react. Should it hear a  molestation I am sure it would suffer a seizure. Should it hear the whole composition as one - a low vibrating hum - I suppose it would say nothing at all. I am listening.

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