the orange lights glimmer in the shade of darkness. the whole enclosure is cold. too cold at times. the curtains lie hanging with the upper left corner dangling from too much wear.
the television lies black and dark, wanting attention.
the writer pays no attention to those details which make this place his own.
he looks at the ceiling. the still fan reminds him of the many times he has looked up at his ceiling. each time the square is the same. but the feeling is always different. today, he looks up in disgust and thinks to himself.
he curls up in his quilt. wanting the warmth it offers. he lies and listens to the songs on his ipod. the circular motions and songs are recurring and he has heard every song at least ten times. but its just refreshing to have music in his ears. just a nice feeling to know there's sound.. noise.. and not total silence. silence is scary.
he just lies and wants the song to accompany him till he sleeps. there's too many things on his mind.
Silence is not what scares us, it's the noise after silence that scares us - jimmy.ang (zeemi) 08'