Noise and silence together form an onion. That is the nature of their opposition. Noise is an outer that as silence increases comes closer to the core. In life silence is relative. True quiet is the terrible din of one’s bodily functions, and the monotonous and insistent wave of one’s brain. It is the most silent only because it is closest to us and the quickest to be ceaned away by a much more refreshing silence. At the same time it is the loudest and the most devastating. The nicest silence is not our own noise however, it is the noise of rivers and brooks, of birds and rustle an of music and voices. Absolute silence, must, I hope, exist in death, the delight of not being. Which, of course I won’t be able to savour in death but can now imagine. I can imagine that silence. The silence near to a stone, but much much further. I need a pee.