Speaking of silence, it’s not to be found aboard the cargo ship. Not beyond the saturnine regime of Jolting Sleep.
- Roughly between 10PM to 5AM.
- Yeah, most likely.
- Amazing.
Eliminate the booze, the late night cinema, the online debaucheries, and sleep purports to mimic the titillating sunny sphere. Otherwise loud jabbering permeates. Cellphones ejaculate Criolla tunes. Consider yourself fortunate not to encounter the blasting Bluetooth speaker, which someone needs inevitably deploy. And one does. Four times in succession, body torture films grind into the night. A five-inch cellphone screen vaunts a jaw dropping cinematic soundscape.
- Oh, the films were already downloaded onto the phone.
- I didn’t know either …
But the noise. Miscreants kids ruffle through the corridors, along the cargo, underneath the tables, past the luggage piles, yelling, whimpering, sobbing, profound excitation. A playground. The jarring motor, loudest beneath, mocks sleep at even the upper deck. And though the quietest and mildly less congested, this one, it amplifies those weather humours: the cool becomes the more brooding, the hot, all the more knavishly infernal. The clamour rattles you still? Follow me underneath. There Chaos pirouettes. Be the testimony. No? Perhaps later. But what of this putrefying odor? You don’t smell that? Anyway, all that goes to say, if you can’t deal with the noise machine, the unceasing villainy, if you can’t gather the silence stock within, you will perish. All the more when not at your physical norm. Should you experience headaches or dizziness, for whatever possible reason …
- I don’t know, dehydration, water, poorly treated, caffeine withdrawal? Or the body simply ill-adapted to the madness? Regardless, you’ll suffer the more. The upper deck is the ruffian among the lot. Ponder a bit. Anyway. Harvest that silence within. Tame the sensitivity, lest it be the complot of your destruction.
Questions, comments? Connect.