The absence of sound is never truly silent. Listen closely to the void and you'll hear the static of your own thoughts, amplified by nothing to compete with them.
In this quiet space, the mind becomes deafening. Memories echo. Anxieties whisper. Ideas flicker like distant radio signals, never quite tuning in clearly.
The paradox of silence: the quieter the external world becomes, the louder your internal landscape grows. A symphony of synapses firing in the dark.
What are you hearing in this moment? The soft hum of electronics? The rhythm of your own breathing? Or something deeper—the background radiation of consciousness itself?
This is the silence. Not an absence, but a presence. Not empty, but full of everything you normally don't hear.