Once again, the sky saturates us with is deluge, accompanied by its loud burst of thunder, we’ve grown accustomed to.
How long has it been raining on this city ?
Mute and indifferent to what has become familiar, we are only sure that the storms have transformed our city and us. It is a strange sensation, living in a gorge, an atmosphere is chronic with humidity as we find ourselves with the sons of the months, embracing the brute infernal noise. Our consciousness compelled us to lie down come nightfall. Wrapped in cloth, we are become saturated by the grounds unceasing stream of humidity, Surrounded by walls of scaling paint, an atrocity; this climate. We all seek release from this fate… as assimilation into the grey void, paled our smiles, now a blur… evanescent. Self-preservation… means accepting ones fate. We knew that. Kinship of shared experiences found us drawn to each other…creating units of our making. Yet…forced into communities driven by the dying light equated, not genuine fraternity, but mocked relationships with all the defects of hypocrisy. This morning, the church found the entire city in attendance for the sermon. So as to conceal the sound of the thunder, an investment had been made to install a large sound system, affording all to hear. Suddenly, the sound of the rain ceased,leaving the acoustics of the auditorium amplifying the voice of the priest, which filled the church. Bewildered chatter halted to a whisper. A ray of sun light had caused the audience to divert their attention, and one by one they streamed out of this forced shelter. bedazzled by the magnificence of this light, our astonishment intensified…
It was this day I knew what silence meant.
To be present and yet so far removed