A Break from these Carbs (Part 2)

Photo by Alex E

Glorious nothing

              Do you miss the stars? We always miss what we leave behind no matter how much we wanted to escape. The stars are the first things I missed. I look up into the sky at night now and all I see is blackness; the sad empty sky towering over the lonely skyscrapers. I long to stand in a field once again; total blackness engulfing me but for the twinkling lights just beyond my reach. Glittering specks that have inspired great thinkers and philosophers are plentiful in my hometown.

            In the busy streets of Montreal, the air is never odourless. Fumes from the nonstop traffic and factories taint our lungs and throats. You can almost see the clouds of smog in front of you as you walk down Sainte-Catherine. Sewers and pipes line the streets pumping out waste to further pollute our fragile environment. Walking down Main Street of Bedford, you might be lucky to see a car pass. Refreshing breezes come in from the west and fill our nose with the smell of far off places we dreamed of visiting as a child. The occasional hint of cut grass or whiff of manure might awaken your senses. In autumn, what is more wonderful than the scent of thousands upon thousands of fallen leaves?

            Honk-honk! Drill-drill! The clatter of city life is endless. Outside you can barely hear yourself speak let alone think. Sirens pass and covering your ears becomes a necessity. You cannot even escape the nonstop cacophony once you are inside. Music of poor taste blasts from speakers in shopping malls and restaurants. Ringing of cell phones and blackberries disturb the peace when we are lucky enough to find it. If there is no mechanical device provoking our headaches then it is our neighbour talking too loud on the bus or the barking dogs at night. The constant chatter of hundreds of people in a public area is like white noise; hard to understand, not very loud, but always in the background. Never will you hear the sound of nature like a trickling brook; bubbly and happy as it flows down to the ocean. Nor will you catch the ruffling of a leaf made by a chipmunk scurrying away. In a municipality where there is only one fire truck, one ambulance and not a police car in sight, the scream of a siren would be the talk of the town for weeks. Sometimes, you can sit outside and listen to the chirping of chickadees and woodpeckers in the early mornings and, other times, you can just sit and hear nothing; glorious nothing.




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