ORCHESTRA OF SILENCES:

This morning´s walk was an orchestra of silences, so operatic in her noiselessness that I am in awe of the power her serenading has over me. The old homeless lady who sits huddled in a doorway, wrapped in an old dirty grey blanket, looks through me, seeing not me, but another face in another lost time, when she she danced to the tune of life, & now, she too hears the silent music of the melancholic morning, as tears of the night´s dew run down the leathered furrows of her her lost cheeks. I greet her in silence, which she acknowledges with her nothingness & her all, & I go on my way. My walk today is silent & contemplative, not sad, but of a melancholia, a reminiscence of seasons past, as I walk through Winter towards Spring.