The Silence
The air stopped, little by little the silence filled the house, first upstairs, second I think, where usually the cries and laughter of children are omnipresent.
Silence sets in, the shutters close, the naps disappear, the beds no longer come undone, no more dreams, no more lovemaking, the shadows seem to move on tiptoe.
The reserve is empty and the tools are tidy but already the paint is cracking, in the hallway the keys lined up, at attention, waiting. The door slammed suddenly and the piano no longer plays black or white but an eternal sigh.
Kristian Gavoille
