The dry grass crackles under your feet as you stop. Far away birds' wings touch the still…

The dry grass crackles under your feet as you stop. Far away birds' wings touch the still surface of the sea...

[Stop listening.]

What is that flutter?

The flock of quail departs; now more than a hundred metres away... a hundred and two... a hundred and five...

Underneath the flutter...

On the islet? There is almost no wind under the rain quietly falling on the reeds. Bulrushes swaying on the waterline, long dried leaves chafing against each other. The soft raindrops...

Like a silent orchestra tuning -- at the beginning of some major work.

Of great importance to the few who attend.

To the east...

The far away roar of the city, distant like today's dream. Before it, the sound of sand. The low tide filtered through its grains... a bird tending to its feathers.

Raindrops fall on water, strangely quiet, forming circles in the distance...

Snow falls on the water, melting away without even a whisper.

Ahead...

A low hum. The air slowly moves through a concrete box -- through its ancient slits and cracks. Resonating. Hollow. A big building.

Below the silence?

Col Do Ma Ma Daqua.

We are way out now... Way out in the West.

No, it's just your imagination. You can't hear such things.

A jitter. A sound impatient to happen, but not yet in this world.

You hear some kind of limb fidget, producing an imperceptible tick...

Beyond that... further north...

Air flows out of a pillbox window. There is very little there. The air cossets flowers on a meadow? Absolute silence. Reeds motionless. Bulrushes motionless.

A flake of snow falls on an extinguished camp-fire. Hiss...

A drop of rain falls on a black log. Of an extinguished camp-fire.

"Kim..."

"Yes?"

Momentarily the sounds are swept away. Pain shoots up your right foot and into your groin...

"Have you noticed how quiet it is?"

"I have -- is that why we're stopping?"

"Sorry. Let's move." [Leave.]

"Mhm. Wait. I have to listen to one more thing."

The lieutenant nods, in silence.

"It's really fucking silent on this island."

"It is -- is that why we're stopping?"

"It's pretty silent on this island."

This is where a lesser man would stop to think about the pain shooting up his right leg and into his groin -- not you, you're concentrated on how...

"It... hurts a bit. Maybe the bandage is off?"

"It can happen -- is that why we're stopping?"

"No, I was listening to something."

To the west...

A silent hiss, sea air moving through the needles of a pine tree.

"Cuno..."

"What?"

Momentarily the sounds are swept away. Pain shoots up your right foot and into your groin...

"It... hurts a bit. Maybe the bandage is off?"

He squints at you. "Is that why we're stopping? So you can bitch about the bandage?"

"No, I was listening to something."

The kid shrugs. He sniffs, audibly -- then, silence.

"Sorry. Let's move." [Leave.]

"It's pretty silent on this island."

He shrugs. "Spooky-ass island. That's how it is on spooky-ass islands. Silent and shit."

"Mhm. Wait. I have to listen to one more thing."

"It's really fucking silent on this island."

"Fuckin' spooky, yeah. Is what it is."

"Have you noticed how quiet it is?"

"Yeah. Spooky-ass island. That's how it is on spooky-ass islands. Silent and shit."

This is where a lesser man would stop to think about the pain shooting up his right leg and into his groin -- not you, you're concentrated on how...

[Open your eyes, stop listening.]

The great ghost of the air is holding its breath.

On the islet? There is almost no wind, just snow quietly falling on the reeds. Bulrushes swaying on the waterline, long dried leaves chafing against each other.