10m to Silence

We visited Nanluoguxiang this evening, in all its touristy splendour but without the crowds since it's a weekday. The reviews spoke of visiting the hutongs to see how the locals live in a place with so much history seeping through the walls. Perhaps not so much now, what with the constructions and upgrading, but the way of life apparently hasn't changed all that much from before it became this touristy attraction.

I ventured into a narrow alley - barely the length of my arm - located between a brightly-lit trinket shop and a boutique on a whim. Just a step past the threshold and the (lack of) light was so pervasive I could barely make out the silhouettes of large, piled up objects against the wall.  The end of the alley opened up to a small clearing with a few houses and a grand structure of a tree with its branches arching over the roof of a small house. The noise of vehicles passing and people bargaining bounced off the walls as I walked down the alley in almost complete darkness, though losing energy rapidly.


And just ten metres away from a people-filled street, I found myself standing next to a stony blue wall, breathing in the cool evening air, staring at the silhouette of tree branches against the evening sky and realising just. how. much. I've missed silence. Even in the apartment at the oddest hour, there is still the faint hum of the airconditioner in the background. But this, this complete and utter lack of sound was refreshing; practically music to my ears. It is in moments like this that you find inspiration to revive your flagging spirits and hope to chance upon more of such instances.