le son du silence
by jemma margaret
This new fourth floor (5th American style, where we don’t count zero) apartment is quiet.
That is, except for the tiny fridge which goes into a steady buzz for an indeterminate interval after being opened…sometimes.
Oh, and when other people run showers or wash dishes.
There is also a primary school next door from which the shouts of happy screaming children echo every hour or so from 8 to 17h.
Most bizarrely, my new coloc and I could not decide whose stomach was growling. Each one claiming the strange guttural whines were our own.
And conversations, en anglais…vraiment bizarre!