This week, write about the quietest thing you heard in your home. Describe it fully and use metaphor or simile in your description.
After describing the quietest thing, go on to explain what paying attention to the quietest thing makes you think about or reminds you of.
6 comments:
The house was quiet. No sounds from the other five people sharing it with me. I sat in the tub after washing my hair and decided then to listen for the quietest sound. Soon enough (even with my notoriously poor hearing) I heard the tiny sound of water dripping off my hair. The drips sounded much like the first drops of rain hitting the surface of leaves in my garden.
Paying attention made me think of two things: of my good luck and of rain. Lucky, because I can easily afford to fill a tub with warm water, read a good book, luxuriate in there as long as I wish. Rain, because that sound, the first plinks of rain on leaves that I was reminded of, is a sound critically important to humans. I live in Vancouver, a place abundant in water. But not too much water, like that that has flooded millions of homes in Australia or Pakistan.
This is a favoured place, Vancouver. My time in the tub and the sound of water dripping from wet hair has reminded me.
When I stop to listen, humming and ticking is all I hear. The whispering of the computer fan blowing like a gentle summer breeze makes me yearn for warmer days. An old alarm clock, ticking away the seconds remind me of the limits of life and to make the most of my moments. Wind and Time are the quietest things tonight.
It's late at night. Every day at this time, it turns very quiet--no arguing from my children, no grumbling from my husband, and no noise from my upstairs neighbour. They all are asleep. So, I'm now a free bird--surfing the Internet, leaving messages on facebook, writing something on my blog, doing my assignments. The only quietest sound accompanies me is click-click-click and tock-tock-tock when I'm using my old Ibook. As the night goes deep, the click-click-click sounds like two chopsticks tapping against each other repeatedly and makes me feel hungry; the tock-tock-tock sounds like the clock ticking a lullaby and leads me into a dream. I remember someone says, "Stay up late can make you fat." Avoid desiring food, I should end this writing and go to bed. Good night!
-The Quietest thing:
Last night, it snowed. And when it snowed, it was so beautiful to see and I couldn’t wait to go outside to step on the first snow. But, when I stepped on the first snow, it made a sound. The sound, the sound of an angel came down as if the angle tried to whisper to my ear so sweetly. But when I stepped on the snow more and more, the sound was gone, gone forever. Then, I cried because I wanted to hear the angle’s voice.
-90 words.
When I read this topic, my mind immediately went to the song that I have listened thousand times. “ Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again….” This song--The Sound of Silence--has a powerful influence over me. That is why whenever I try to listen to the dripping sound of raindrops, the typing sound of my keyboard, the whirling sound of falling leaf, or even the beating sound of my heart, I get the sense of loneliness and sadness. Perhaps I have a restless mind which never gives me a moment of rest, listening, watching, observing. So I try hard to avoid quiet things. To me, involving myself in the stillness or quietness is nothing but experiencing the breath of emptiness or the struggle in nothingness. Am I too negative? Fine. Leave me alone.
The quietest thing in my house is my house itself, when my mom isn't home of course. I can come home, fall on my couch stare at the ceiling, and not have to worry about hearing someone bicker and bicker about things that can't be changed. I can do things without being criticized, like eating ice cream for breakfast, or eating dinner in bed. I can put both couches together and lounge while I play my video games. There is just something about being home alone that intrigues me, even after having lived on my own. That teenaged rush of "NO ONES HOME!!" still runs through my blood. I still, to this day go straight for the stereo just to blast obscure songs I wouldn't usually even play when my moms around.
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