Noise Curves

I encountered a jungle of noise. It made me withdraw from further seeking a way to outvoice noise. Pale shadows were playing. Noise was muting the echoes that were still there, silently warming the letters not yet constituting words. Muting noise. It made me forget how to cry. And I felt tons of tears in my chest. Sometimes, they would prompt an urge to be poured out. But, the moment they’d start their journey out, they were somehow suppressed. I was agonizing. I felt the noise jungle, barricading my ability to reach out and tell you how everything is and is not possible to understand, was obstructing my tears again and again. I thought it was something to struggle against. And I did. And it was a self-generating battle. I couldn’t get through the jungle. Couldn’t reach you. Couldn’t reach anyone. Until I started to think that, perhaps, there is no reason for that accumulation of tears. No reason for agonizing over their supposedly being sabotaged. No self-sustaining striving to tantalize emotional indecisiveness. Still, tears can be felt. Sometimes, when they shyly surface and reluctantly send a glitter signal to the world, it only brings a new kind of awareness : a sense of layers of them stored in the bosom being there for a reason slightly different from how one imagined it. When they bathe the face differently, pale shadows acquire slightly modified shapes. They play along the soft edges of the friendly flow.