I'm
not sure this adequately conveys "silence," but then it reminds
me of what was a silent night, calm, quiet, and still. I took the week
off from work, it was snowing gently, the earth was covered in a blanket
of white, and I was wandering the neighborhood in wonder at about 3
a.m., enjoying the solitude.
The
old Ohio Asylum for the Blind sits a couple of short blocks behind my
house on an expansive lawn sprinkled liberally with entangling trees.
Recently renovated and reopened as the Columbus Health Department, its
rescue was a rare victory for preservationists in a city that prefers
its buildings to be built new every 25 years.
The
night watchman came outside and broke the silence to inquire what I
thought I was doing. I apologized for bringing him out into the cold,
and said I was just wandering and taking pictures. He remarked that
it was awfully late and looked at me with obvious suspicion, but I guess
he couldn't think of anything else to say or do and went back inside,
leaving me alone again in the stillness.
The
holidays have been anything but silent; a night such as this one, in
mid-December, I want to see again.