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I conducted a symphony made of silence
I was standing in the middle of a cathedral, not with an orchestra, but with the absence of one. The air hummedânot with notes, but with the weight of what wasnât played. Every breath I took echoed like a held chord. A single violinist sat at the back, eyes closed, bow still in hand. No sound came out, but the room trembled anyway. I raised my batonâjust onceâand the silence folded into itself, like a letter never sent. When I opened my eyes, the audience was gone, and the music hadnât ended. It had just become something else.
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