Eulogy for Silence
When I was 23 years old, I lost my silence. It was way harder than one might expect when losing something that wasn’t there. Instead, I started hearing a ringing. A ghost sound named tinnitus that ironically wasn’t real either, but its everlasting presence wouldn’t let me think otherwise. Silence was something that I cherished enormously, but its absence made me realize the immense weight that we put into intangibles, especially in the acoustic world. It’s a loud cry that signals the beginning of a life, which then ends with silence. There are silences of complicity, awkward silences, minutes of silence to show solidarity and some of our biggest punishments are solitary confinement and cancel culture. We acknowledge sound everywhere we exist, and I think silence should be broken, as it was broken in me, to recognize its value."