The crowd has left, leaving their small-talk and whisperings with them. It’s all quiet here. The silence is deafening but comforting too. I’d like to say I’ve stripped off my mask but there isn’t any thing to remove. I’m still the same. I’ve always been the same. Like I keep saying, if you find it boring here, I’m afraid that’s what it really is like. I’m not going to feign excitement, or controversy just to be noticed. It’s too taxing.
I’ve noticed cobwebs forming in corners, I keep meaning to clean them, but keep forgetting, until this afternoon, I finally picked up that duster and dusted away.
Do cobwebs make noise?
It’s amazing how spiders can do such intricate work in silence. Even the most celebrated author makes noise while typing away their masterpieces, even if they scribbled, in the silence, you would hear the jotting down of a pen or pencil on paper. With an artist, I can imagine them making noises too as they go about painting their masterpieces, but spiders? They are quiet creatures aren’t they? Weaving their circuitous obra maestras in complete silence and then the humans come and ruin them in one swish of their dusters.
Life is brutal.
It’s my daughter’s half-term break next week. I better not forget to switch off the school-run alarm. Here’s to lie-ins! I forget, we are visiting my in-laws. There goes my lie-ins. Sigh.
Life is indeed brutal.