I am good at being alone. Equally so in a crowded room as an open field at dusk. I am good at silence because it is never really silent. Not when you open yourself to the sounds of the vibrating bass the wind thrusts and pounds against your ears or the rustling and pushing of the grass like a crowd moving together and against each other. And I am good at noise. The screeching, clanking, swishing, humming, drumming of modern reality. It is music.
I am comfortable with my own thoughts. I chuckle audibly at jokes in my head, to the scathing, judgmental stares of others. Yet, I can easily navigate a gathering of diverse conversationalists. Admittedly, empathy makes the crowd easier than the singular mind because I am less forgiving of myself. Continue reading “The Outer Banks”