[“The remains of their burial chambers can be seen in the museum of silence.” – Peter Ackroyd]
There are different kinds of silence in this museum: the silence of awe, of shock, of having nothing to say that will not embarrass you, of having words to say but you know she would take your words and use them to dreadful effect, the silence of rock pools waiting for the shape of clouds, the silence of the dead that speaks so irrelevantly, the silence that you at first think is out there but then realize it’s in you,…
We are silent, here, in the museum. It’s a custom of respect for those who’ve gone before us, entered the grey maw of death, even though they may have not gone there so … quietly.
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