Que Sera Sara?

True quiet is elusive prey.

I welcome precious afternoons too warm for clicking radiators, just cool enough the fridge isn’t humming and the fans and air conditioners are unneeded.

The nights I can luxuriously leave my phone in the living room, requiring no alarm and the attendant, incessant electrical buzz in the dark.

In Edinburgh there was a spa-cum-deprivation-chamber. A floating salt bath in total darkness, surrounded by robust sound insulation. The lapping water must have been deafening. I always wished I had tried it, terrifying though it seems. Perhaps it would unlock mysteries, just as distant birdsong awakens soft memories.