My lovely, unscheduled weekend became a working weekend and, so, I have just part of a Sunday to salvage some semblance of weekendiness.
I sat on the subway on the way home from the office last night. I was listening to music and exhausted. And the people on the subway were in their gladrags, heading downtown for their Saturday nights. I felt alone and wrapped in my music, detached from the city revolving around me.
I know it's just tiredness. A day working on 2012 content, sitting in the office alone. It seeps into my brain. Aloneness. And much as I was racing to get home, I came into my dark apartment and the stillness was no solace. I had had too much quietness all day.
I'm fascinated by silence. How it can take on different hues, semantic content even. The silence I experienced on Howth, different than the one I experienced on the subway last night. The silence between people. The silence between us. Silence can shimmer and glow, or it can sit flat and dimensionless. It can be perfectly treasured or completely devastating.
Today I'll try to find a quieter kind of silence, without the screaming confusion that has been seizing my days of late. Without all kinds of yearning. I'll try to just be still in it, to hush myself, to lose this discomforted feeling in it.
Products: Horoscopes for the Dead by Billy Collins | MHL By Margaret Howell Fisherman Sweater from La Garconne | Flannel PJ Trousers from Toast | Wild Violet candle from James Heeley | Knot Garden teal throw from Coterie | Large mug from Toast | Fondue Chocolat au Lait via