I remember the scent of burning candles.
One finds oneself at home in the crowd, the lack of space. One gets accustomed to the rush, the madness of everyday. One gets used to the lights and the noise, to losing track of time, to losing count of what was and what comes next. One becomes familiar with the randomness, the flurry, the blur of it all. One gets lost in it; one forgets what is.
One gets so used to it, that the upcoming stillness becomes an assault to the senses. The present quiet disquiets; the mind gets jolted by the lack of sound; the eyes get overwhelmed by the onslaught of space.
But how beautiful, too, these impressions of muteness. How calming, how peaceful. The heart finds itself pulled into reflection. The question of faith ceases, finding respite in the hinges. In the hush of things, one stops being lost, if only for a moment.
Our part of the world is once more taking a pause. May peace be with us all.
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