"Sound is the shape of silence…"

Such a lingering foreboding and ominous presence is conjured in this piece for me. It immediately sent me to the walls of Macbeth's castle where hoot owls and darkness shape the silence of his thoughts. The 'tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow' speech suddenly took visual shape after reading your piece. I could see Macbeth turn and utter into the listening walls of his cold, bloodied castle your words, 'Night settles into quiet, as if silence and infinity were at hand.'

Such a breath of suspension. Thank you.