The Quiet Lady

I realize how much I love being alone, despite being a city girl. Sure, there are times I prefer the company of a friend. But, most days, I'm perfectly fine to go to a cafe and dream up ways to live more quietly.

People think that silence is the absence of noise or sound. That's true to a point. I enjoy hearing the chirp and song of birds while a plane passes through. Or, the buzzing of cars and motorcycles. All of these things make up the sound that is my life. And in it all, I find quiet places and pockets, like doors, that open themselves up and invite me in. 

Maybe it was the comfort of music that helped me retain information during school exams. I couldn't study without music or a persistent and consistent cacophany of sound around me. 

Of course, I often imagine waking up by the water. But, it's in the city. Not, up north somewhere far away from all that's familiar to me here. 

I was mugged in my city...not because living in the city is a bad place to live. Where there are more people, there is a greater chance of crime, statistically and logically, speaking. But the thought of getting mugged in the suburbs? Where silence is a shadow in the dark? No thanks.

People haven't learned how to cultivate silence. They think they need to go somewhere to get it, to find it. It's always right here. Where ever you go, there you are. Forget FOMO. "We're all bozos on this bus."

I miss those motorcycle rides on the back of Rakesh's bike. And then listening to, "I'm A Dinosaur," by King Crimson. I want to reach that peak of fearlessness again without the shock of misfortune as an entryway...