Listening

I am sitting in my office just listening, there's no one else about...complete silence. Silence is one the most wonderful and calming influences that I know, I crave contact with people but more and more I crave my space, my silence.

But it's not silent, the building is making its own noise, its own song, giving voice to its day.
There are faint rumbling and swooshing sounds as the central heating regulates against the cold, walls and ceilings creak, light fittings buzz with electricity, a clock ticks on the wall above me, I can hear rain cascading across the roof tiles and down the drainpipes. The computers router tat, tat tats and the kettle sighs as the switch clicks off.

There are voices, the drum of rubber on tarmac, distant sirens and the eiree squeal of brakes, these are not the noises of the building but the world beyond the windows and doors. Filtered sounds that I will soon have to confront again, assulting my senses as I make my way home.

For now I have my own space, my own silence, I feel safe and comfortable in this building that talks, that speaks to me of its day without intruding on my silence, its noises will continue after I've locked the door.