Two Hundred Twenty-Eight

I recently skimmed an article that described a room (or was it simply a device?) in which all external noise was filtered out. The only sounds a person inside could hear were the sounds of his own body; heart beating, blood flowing through his veins, air rushing through his lungs, and so forth. The experience was said to be maddening; no one could last more than fifteen minutes listening to nothing but the sound of one’s own life taking place. I sit here, in the middle of the night, and I wonder how different that experience is from my experience at this very moment, this very quiet moment.