Sunday, 9 January 2011

On the road again

Quietude. What a word. Not many chances to use it, really. Our world is busy and city-bustled-hustled-speed-encrusted. That's how I like it, but every once in a while, when on the highway surrounded by empty lanes, salt, and snow drifts, the word comes to mind.

Quietude. It's a word that paradoxically adds attitude and resolve to something passing over those qualities. It doesn't mean silence, it means silence plus aura. That sneaking, creeping, engulfing type of quiet. Quiet that thumps and thuds.

Quietude. It's the feeling when the night is darker than smokestacks and poised enough for a constellation or two. Quietude defies creaking floors and the heavy hollowness in your chest after confrontation. Quietude is Bruce Lee and the Liberty Bell.

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