The trucks and cars, the random voices of pedestrians, the clatter and hum of machinery, the whine of airplanes overhead--all of these sounds and more combine to form the audio backdrop of a typical day.
At the same time, these sounds embody the essential silence of the typical day. The anonymous nature of the typical day. The indistinguishable nature of the typical day. This sameness, this unrelenting sameness, is a form of silence, although it is expressed with sound.
There is a silence amid the noise ourselves. The constant flow of words, words, words blocks out the outside world, keeps it from penetrating through to us, allows us to keep the world at arm's length, gives us the illusion that we are in control.
Only when we are alone and silent are we unable to avoid the demon we fear. That is when he comes to us, grinning his evil grin, and we must confront the silence and discover, horribly, that the silence exists not only outside of ourselves, but within ourselves as well.
Our screams of revelation, echoing in the labyrinth that leads to the desolate core of our beings, are our only real comfort.
Silent screams. Interior weapons.