RWS Jour 64
I sit listening to the performance of the “theatre of the day” in the forum. It is pouring rain, and there is an incomprehensible assembly of sound surrounding me. The implementation of a multitude of languages, often spoken at the same time at competing decibels, is difficult for me to sit through today.
Behind me, the sounds of the kitchen clang along, to my right some muffled music coming from the tool shed, and Malick’s voice circling around the forum. Perhaps I am tired, but this polyphonic soundscape does not soothe me in its usual way.
I sit through the duration of the performance, and then walk back to the embassy to sit in silence for a little. In the midst of this, I hear the slow rise of applauds and cheering. I walk out back into the forum to see Malick, completely transformed. Some of the guys from the sculpture have taken him to shower, and given him a new set of clothes. Exuding a contagious glee, he waltzes up to Thomas and tackles him in profound embrace. Everyone stares, dewey eyed, and the silence of the smiling crowd echoes through the space.
The silence proves to be the loudest sound of the day.