The clock ticked, an orchestra conductor asserting relentless beats. Each chime resonated, a note struck in the composition of solitude. In the soft light of the waning day, she found solace in these rhythms, crafting symphonies of unvoiced thoughts.
Outside, the world was an unraveled tapestry of hidden sounds—a distant car braked, a dog barked, leaves whispered secrets to the wind. None of these were music in the conventional sense, yet combined, they painted a symphony of life's nuances.
"Music is everywhere," she often said, pausing to listen to the chirping of crickets at dusk or the rustling of the night breeze through the trees. Each moment, a measure, each silence, a rest—essential for the melody to breathe. She imagined the quiet stories hidden in her home, in the old walls that held memories like notes in the margins of a well-loved score.
As the stars embroidered the night sky, she recognized a familiar melody within; it had no name, no composer but itself—a song of stillness, composed long before her time, echoing into eternity.
If you seek to unearth your hidden symphonies, wander here or there and listen closely.