Silent Statues In the Mist

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The mist lies thick, dead and heavy over the silent garden and fields. The dawn’s shroud of airborne damp and dew muffles and mutes; as if cladding the world in a protective soundproof jacket which none but sunlight can hope to penetrate. The white marble statues in the garden glimmer eerily through the grey; their strong structural forms becoming hazy and indistinct, before blurring into eventual nothingness.

But out of this quiet cloistered world, a silent fanfare of trumpets blazes forth. The bright brassy yellow of daffodils boldly punctuates the shroud of grey; a lone voice of colour in an otherwise leaden landscape.

As I trudge round the field on my morning walk, the usual mile-long vistas shrink down to a matter of yards. But in a strange way this is comforting. I suddenly become the true centre of my own world, left alone to my solitary thoughts and reflections. For a brief time, nothing matters beyond a mere radius of metres. These moments are rare and distinct; a thing to be celebrated and cherished.

Whatever you get up to today, be sure to enjoy a few precious moments of silence. For in this loud and cluttered world, such moments are few and far between.

Thanks for reading and have a good day.

Adam.

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