I'm not sure this adequately conveys "silence," but then it reminds me of what was a silent night, calm, quiet, and still. I took the week off from work, it was snowing gently, the earth was covered in a blanket of white, and I was wandering the neighborhood in wonder at about 3 a.m., enjoying the solitude.
The old Ohio Asylum for the Blind sits a couple of short blocks behind my house on an expansive lawn sprinkled liberally with entangling trees. Recently renovated and reopened as the Columbus Health Department, its rescue was a rare victory for preservationists in a city that prefers its buildings to be built new every 25 years.
The night watchman came outside and broke the silence to inquire what I thought I was doing. I apologized for bringing him out into the cold, and said I was just wandering and taking pictures. He remarked that it was awfully late and looked at me with obvious suspicion, but I guess he couldn't think of anything else to say or do and went back inside, leaving me alone again in the stillness.
The holidays were anything but silent; a night such as this one, in mid-December, I want to see again.
[Silence] -John.
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