The bell rung loudly, in a uniform rhythm, and the people were chanting the hymn in perfect notes. There was an abrupt silence. I walked on.
A man passed by me, talking on the phone. He paused. He resumed talking after a while.
I kept walking. The cars whisked past me, there were horns blowing, the wind was whistling through the trees- there was silence in all of them.
The day ended. I went home and brought out my guitar. I observed a moment of silence. I played a composition. I did falter in the process, but when I stopped, there was silence- just as before, and though a bit different, it was perfect. There was nothing imperfect about it.
I played again. And I stopped. There was silence before I had started and it was there when I had ended now. It was the origin of my music and it was also where my music ended.
Silence was music in the true sense of term- the birth, death and essence of all the music in the world.
A man passed by me, talking on the phone. He paused. He resumed talking after a while.
I kept walking. The cars whisked past me, there were horns blowing, the wind was whistling through the trees- there was silence in all of them.
The day ended. I went home and brought out my guitar. I observed a moment of silence. I played a composition. I did falter in the process, but when I stopped, there was silence- just as before, and though a bit different, it was perfect. There was nothing imperfect about it.
I played again. And I stopped. There was silence before I had started and it was there when I had ended now. It was the origin of my music and it was also where my music ended.
Silence was music in the true sense of term- the birth, death and essence of all the music in the world.
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