Silence

(EN) That night, I must have slept deeply and woke up very slowly. It is as if gentle waves were flushing me from the realm of dreams into reality. Curled up like a cat, I lie on my pillows when I finally open my eyes.

Daylight is already seeping in thin streaks through the cracks of the closed blinds. Softened by the heavy red curtain, the room is bathed in dull twilight. My gaze wanders over the dimly discernible furniture: to the left of my bed, the old chest of drawers with shiny brass fittings; on the wall opposite, my desk with the Chinese vase that my Asian lover gave me as a farewell gift many years ago. Under the window with the red curtain is my little chaise longue with the richly embroidered Indian throw and the beaded decorative cushions.

On the wall above, you can see the matt gold frame of a painting whose motif is still hidden in the dark. To the right is a delicate bookcase with turned feet and struts, where my favourite books have their place. The green lily also feels at home there and sends its arching spurs into the room. A small chandelier that I bought at a flea market a long time ago hangs from the ceiling. Narrow crystal rods are attached to the round brass ring, which breaks the light into many facets and hangs down like glittering fringes when the light is switched on. Now you can only guess how pretty this lighting looks in the evening when it casts shadows on the ceiling.

Not a single sound penetrates the room from the outside. This is unusual, and for a moment, I smile, imagining that the world has ended without me noticing.

No birds chirping, no noisy neighbourhood children on their way to school, no engine noise from the road passing nearby - nothing, simply nothing. I listen into this silence and sink into a kind of trance. A deep inner calm spreads in me. I remain motionless and hear myself breathing steadily. A rarely experienced feeling of happiness and deep inner contentment flows through me.

It is a wonderful start to a new day.

Then I get up and go down to the kitchen. I prepare breakfast and turn on the radio. I catch my breath: the morning news reports a further spread of the pandemic. The curfew and the lockdown that have been in place for weeks are being extended. Schools remain closed. Employers are asked to allow home offices as far as possible. The wearing of FFP2 masks is now compulsory. A new, even more contagious variant of the virus has been discovered.

The silence will probably last for a long time, and the feeling of happiness is over for this day. 30 January 2021 (Monika L.)