No noise. No sound. No nothing.
That was when I thought of the farmhouse.
It's an old, dark house...The farm lies deep in the hills of the Bershires, far from any roads.
It's the dead of night, at midwinter. The air is frozen and void of wind. Farmhouse, meadows,
and woods surrounding are buried in a quilt of snow so deep that everything alive has chosen
not to fight, but burrow instead below the while insulation and go to sleep. All is so cold and silent,
on that farm in my mind, that the stars, shining against a sky the color of tarnished lapis,
seem to give off a vibration that is not sound and not light but something in between--something
that is perhaps the essence of silence."