Oh, Mrs. Dalloway. Always giving parties to cover the silence.
And I realized that perhaps at no time in my life had I ever known silence. Always there had been something that had made some sort of noise — the chirring of a lone insect in the quiet of a summer noon, or the rustle of a leaf. Even in the dead of night there would have been the creaking of the timbers in the house, the murmur of the furnace, the slight keening of a wind that ran along the eaves.
Leave home, feel the wind blow 'cause it's colder here inside in silence
Silence is also a sound.
El perdón
Ahí te dejo
Donde me dejaste sola,
Donde entre espejos y sombras
Se convierten en siglos las horas.
Sin derecho a saber ningunos motivos
Siente como vibra con gritos
El silencio en tus oídos.