Silence is not empty. It is a weight pressing on the chest, heavier than iron, louder than thunder, yet made of nothing. In its grip, time feels stretched—seconds elongate like shadows at dusk, refusing to die. Silence has no mercy; it crawls into the skull and magnifies the smallest sound until a heartbeat feels like a drum of war. It is in silence that secrets breathe. The locked door, the faint crack on the wall, the footprints that stop halfway across the room—these are not noticed in ...
en-us
