Yup, that last line there, that's a purty one, Miss Erika.

"NO! No, no no!"

The baton carved a savage downstroke, and the orchestra stumbled to a halt.

"Millicent!" he swung round on the first violin. "Play this line!"

She played, letting the last note vibrate away. "No! It does not say 'let the note die.' It calls for a caesura!" He rounded on the orchestra at large again. "Where did you all study, in some cave?"

Another musician laid bow against strings and drew slow, aching notes from the depths of the cello. And at the end of the line, for just the space of a breath, there was silence.

Thanks. Don't tell me I'm the only one that ever felt that(of course somebody called my brain sexy and may well have turned my head forevah, but...)

Another drabble from one of the many embryonic novels gestating somewhere in the back of my brain:

She couldn’t think what made this place so different. There were hills, and green grass, and trees—not quite a forest, but a sufficiency of trees. It was not unlike Georgia, nor even completely unlike the dimly remembered Oxfordshire of her childhood. It was a good place. And yet it unnerved her.

When Joseph had secured the horses and the milk cow, he joined her and took her hand.

“It’s so silent here,” she said.

“It won’t always be.”

“Is that a promise or a regret?”

“Both. Neither. We are what we are, and we carry noise inside us.”

For me, silence always rings with the urge to work. Silence means the family are out; silence means I am alone; silence means I ought to be writing.

The quiet is always welcome, but never complete. Next-door's dog doesn't bother me, and neither does the soft hum of the computer; silence is never utter, but I don't try to end what quiet I have with music, but let the tapping of keys be enough of a tune that I feel my fingers are dancing to it.

For me, the true power of silence is that it means time to think.

Does anyone out there except me really, really, really enjoy pure silence?

I love silence. It is one of the many reasons I live alone. I can't read or write without silence. Little background noises don't bother me as much anymore, but any kind of human noise, talking or moving about and I am hopelessly distracted. I hate going to restaurants when I am by myself and find that they are playing music of any kind, because I just want to sit there with my book or my journal and relax.

And I write with music on to drown out KFKD. Funny how different people are.

I love silence and need it, but sometimes it is too much. Replace "silence" with "sound" and that sentence is also true.

Also, hi. I've been offline since last week while the last days of school went screeching madly to a close.

Done now. Writing. It's quiet in my house tonight, and I love it.

Kristiiiiiin! Hi!

I'm one of those people who likes to have music on all the time, especially when relaxing. Silence creeps me out sometimes, though I do appreciate it at times. It's fascinating, especially when you're the only thing breaking it.

Erika! I was reading an old Elle (not that old -- a couple of months old) from a stash a friend gave me and I saw a little blurb of a book I thought you'd find interesting: Blue Blood by Edward Conlon. It's a history of the NYPD told by a cop who comes from a cop family. It was published by Riverhead Books.

(BTW, the Elle is from April of this year and has Mischa Barton on the cover -- did everyone EXCEPT me remember that she played Jessie's girlfriend Katie on Once and Again? )