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Silence 1

August 2010 - on the roof:

A grass sprouts out from the soil, in a plastic pot. Is it spinach or lettuce? Is it the flowers?
On the roof: A summer night, a crowded city - a cab honks a door slams a fire cracker explodes
Nearby
A wedding in one of the houses a child screams -or is she just playing?

Breathe

On the roof, Tibetan bells ring, and I remember, August 2006 - on the mountain:

"Deafening is the sound of silence, for in it I hear the echo of my own voice. And what does it say but a riddle ...
It takes an emptiness to find the sound of silence. Underneath, the tulips tell stories and the birds explore the sounds they make. With their beaks, they smile to a flower growing, between the wild vine and berry. The plants grow within a day of making way for new leaf.
How sweet it is. The feeling of breathing. Deep into the core, digging between the soil, pulling out old roots and keeping some ... Some plants are impossible to get rid of-in an organic garden. Small hairs seep back, between the unseen and with the worms. They come back, to around the same area, and just develop new ways. Between the roots of other trees-they come out, between the fence. It is falling off. The wire that separates the inside from the outside. Metal rusts and is eaten away by time. It is always there, the duration, the movement of night and day, in rest .... the body simply wants to move-to music. But play it and perhaps I will hear it. I will listen with my every cell and trust that the words will not escape me, as a bird takes me, to another place .... "

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