Within the depths, there exists a whisperless expanse where noise finds no sanctuary. Here, thoughts untangled seem to weave themselves into the fabric of void, stitching silence onto the canvas of eternity.
The specter of sound shies from this realm, its ghostly visage obscured by the weight of absence.[1]
Do the echoes in silence speak louder than their vocalized counterparts? Could it be that the absence of sound cultivates an orchestra of unheard melodies? Such inquiries lead one down corridors without doors, where echoes become companions, and absence, an art form.
In this symphony, silence holds the baton, conducting a melody that never begins nor ends.[2]
Amidst the soundless abyss, a question arises: What does one hear when they embrace the silence of the unknown? The answer may well reside within the paradox of being, where existence is felt and not heard. Here lies a truth: Silence speaks volumes.
True volume is not in the presence of sound, but in the palpable presence of its absence.[3]