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.

About John Swinburn

"Love not what you are but what you may become."― Miguel de Cervantes
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