Silence is born in one’s native language.

We leave childhood when we know our limits.

Silence is not calm. It changes, it is transformed and declines, it disintegrates, but it never leaves us, staying until our last words.

Just like inertness is part of dance, silence is part of language. It expresses the depth of abstraction which surrounds us.

In music there are never long silences, there are pauses, but they are short-lived through fear they could spell the end. In silence time stretches and expands.

Everything has its silence. Trees, stone, the wind, the sky, mountains and rivers, just like humankind.

And sometimes in a rather spectacular and fantastic manner, they fall silent together listening to the bare emotion.

Silence is a lake full of self and everything, where the horizontal memory resides, giving rise to thought.