There has to be at least one day of the week which is silent. I have hated Sundays for so long purely because they are silent. And now I sit here, looking at the street outside the window, which has been empty of both people and cars for a good long time now.
Sunday makes you face up to all the noise in your head. This is why I’ve come to hate it so. It was worse during childhood, because then Sunday really was a major day of not much happening. Almost everything was closed. One assumed that things would be closed, unlike now when we merely assume that they’ll have different hours, or a special brunch menu.
The silence isn’t that bad. You should get your feet wet in it, walk around and see if you can find any pebbles to pick up.
white pebble 