From the complete lack of noise the physical attributes began to shift: rooms simultaneously felt inaccessibly large and oppressively small without the echoes of a thousand and one tokens of life to confirm where spaces began and ended. Lacking auditory substantiation, the eyes were uncertain where to focus, for there was no sound to follow, no source to seek out. She moved towards the window, gazing out, and saw more silence. The silence of the perfection of leafless trees, sedate lawns, unruffled sky. The silence of a world that seemed to have stopped moving -- but even that must cause a host of secondary noises, as the energy of constant forward propulsion is replaced by the whiplash of sudden cessation.
Money ... buys privacy, silence. The less money you have, the noisier it is; the thinner your walls, the closer your neighbors. ... The first thing you notice when you step into the house or apartment of a rich person is how quiet it is.
-- Fran Lebowitz
Saw the trailer for "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button", and assumed it was a direct interpretation of "The Confessions of Max Tivoli." Was surprised to discover that Fitzgerald did in fact write said short story, but still hope that Andrew Sean Greer receives a very healthy percentage of film profits.
the desultory early loss of leaves