At the first beginnings he occurred through a random combination of light, air and total absence of sound. This is why he yearns for the womb of silence. In his ears a silent world is a beautiful world. When he walks out he is steadfastly escorted by an angel and a demon, one on either side. They are both dumb. He surveys us, he is omnipresent with his mild and terrible countenance and his sublime ears that catch our every word, however hesitant and imperfect. He would like to distil each of our utterances into perfect silence. He utters himself through minute movements, glances and poignant pauses, endlessly. He bears no enmity against us, but he distrusts us. When he grows tired of the living, he turns to the dead. They know all about silence. The listen to it. The god of silence is a patient god. He has patience enough to wait until we all become fossils.
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