The world in sounds, closed, one after another. Cars passing by, idling, shouts of the others. Streets with motorcycles and buses flooded.
Everything there mingles nerves into one massive fluffy ball of pressure. No way to stop this. No chance to find calm. Muted by the extractor fan. White noise of modern society.
Pink noise, lower pitch. Flat wind in the trees rustling, steady rain on the pavement pattering, beach waves splashing.
Brown noise of the bass heavy rain.
I’m glad to be able to read again.
Blue noise of hissing water spray. Purple noise, higher increase. Grey noise, balance.
About the Creator
Mescaline Brisset
if it doesn't come bursting out of you
in spite of everything,
don't do it.
unless it comes unasked out of your
heart and your mind and your mouth
and your gut,
don't do it.
so you want to be a writer? – Charles Bukowski
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