For the very first time I was able to hear the subtle sound of the butterfly’s tiny feet thud softly against the paper-thin petal as it landed weightlessly on the petunia. The world was so quiet now that everyone was dead.
I asked a tree.
Yes, it does make a sound.
My head is full of voices. But I can’t sleep because I don’t remember the sound of yours anymore.
Sound travels at fast speed, buzzing and killing my silence. But my body is unaware of it, my soul is weak and I have no answer to give you.