but really I've never seen someone so short

In New York, with it's incredulous population of 8 million people, the world around you constantly hums and rustles. There wasn't a time I can remember, ever, that there was some sort of sullen (forget serene) silence about. Cars and people and stuff constantly happening.

When I got home, the silence of a Friday evening in Athlone was so loud, my ears buzzed the entire night.

When it gets well into the night, usually around 11:30pm, the silence that settles around usually gets so stark I can hear my electric blanket buzzing. And if I lean to switch off the plug, I can make out the ticking of my watch. Downstairs. It's wonderful.

In December's of old, before sister could drive, I used to take her to Surfer's Corner at Muizenberg Beach for surfing lessons. I used to park here, roll down the window in the back seat, stick my feet out into the air, and drown myself in Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams and naps. And the sounds of the sea, cars humming in the distance, the occasional train grumbling past, and the chaotic scramble of dozens of voices articulating themselves poorly was a kind of magic.