January252001

Quiet Life
     Quiet, calm, still. Albert Einstein once noted that the monotony of a quiet life stimulates the creative mind. It illuminates the senses and stirs the imagination. There's a button in my mind that I press down to quell the storm. I sit in stark white classrooms, blue chairs-attached-to-desks, white walls, white ceilings, white floors. I shuffle through paper memories in a storehouse of my mind, reading, seeking a record of a more peaceful time and come up unrequited. These Days of Bustle whirl me about, paper seeds and debris whisked around my face in spheres of chaos, but I have my salt-shaker, trusty, in hand. One day, I'll thank myself for finding that spot where I can mute -- mute the wind, mute the cold, mute the daylight. Walking outside, I carefully fit my arms through the straps of my backpack. The green maples that line the street scatter sunlight onto the ground below. Silkily, clouds shift in a windless sky. Silence is clean. Quiet, calm, still, beautiful.

 
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