I was four when began to play music. suddenly, I understood silence.

silence is the language of the beginning of a song, when I hold an intruding melody to my chest for the first time.

it vanishes at the sound of my voice.

it’s the language of the question when I search for a musical phrase and I ask myself what’s the use of so many traffic lights, this red and green tide of inarticulate air?

i have recordings of it. silence is the sound of a subway track without a train.

and there is the silence of this afternoon, which I have just broken with a single word.

silence is also the language of the end of a song, when I’ve emptied my heart. it’s the missing word for what’s missing at the end of a performance, when the seats are left empty and there are no more words and whispers.

who brought silence? what for? it is always perched on the branch of my voice. if I only knew where it came from.