“Saying nothing, that’s enough for me.”
-Bon Iver, Holocene
The silence reigned. It was absolute, perfect, crystalline. She imagined if she looked at it under a microscope its structure would be flawless. The world was dark, as dark as it could be when snow poured down. Heaven was crying unusually heavy tears today. The evergreens, so distant, so dark, but yet lit up by the thick blanket of white, bowed under the weight of such tears. The wind swirled the snow that fell down into cyclones, building drifts with exquisitely carved edges. Arches, ridges, details even the most skilled architect could not create. The hands of God seemed to curve around this storm. The world was perfect in its darkness, in the silence of the peaceful storm. She laid back, stared at the gray-black night reflected off the snow. This was peace. She had never been more content to lie and simply be, watching the snow fall, a soft piano melody playing through her headphones. This moment was more than enough, this silence. In the years that followed, she searched often for that stillness, for the peace of the storm and the way it silenced the world in utter tranquility.