D-building, 9.00 am

Have you ever tried to listen to a room that had no soul?
No skin, no mind, just empty bone,
and as I look up to the ceiling made of glass, I realize that the clouds don't mind.
They continue to run past me, in and out, up and down and around the sky.
I don't believe I've ever been in such a quiet place that wasn't outside.
This is a place even quieter than the library.
It's me and a lunch lady on the floor below me.
My pen has more energy than both you the reader, and I the observer.
Now the sky is white.
The clouds have merged into one giant cloud.
It's the beard of god, the beard of the earth,
but it's not a beard...it's something I once thought was holdable.
My pen takes a pause.
From every corner and surface in this room I hear a creek.
The lights make a crack every 10 seconds, followed by a snap in the ceiling.

Pause.

My pen scratches up against the paper.

Total Silence.

The laughter of the child outside, followed by the pained cry.
He lost the game.
The lights turn off.
I look up .
The sky is still completely white, and I can see every last spot, stain and scratch made on the glass, on the sky.

This is a masterpiece of wondrous sounds.
The kind of sounds which can only be heard by oneself and just one more person; like a lunch lady.

She wont ask how my weekend was, or if I'm still talking to that guy, so I can relax and feel calm, feel safe.
No questions, just bone and sky.
My stomach growls and this is my first contribution of internal sound since the symphony began.

More sounds make their appearance, literally creating notes.

The sky is still white.
I turn back and see a plastic bag hanging on a coat rack. The plastic is making music.

Everything is living.