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At home, I love reaching out into that absolute silence, when you can hear the owl or the wind. Amanda HarlechThis reminds me of one night when my sister and I were in the backyard and heard an owl hooting. We were both silent just struck by the moment when all of a sudden, from the highway, we heard a driver go by screaming out “Mother F*cker!” into the perfect silence. Another pause and I said “That’s nice”. To this day we still laugh hysterically at the juxtaposition of perfect…

At home, I love reaching out into that absolute silence, when you can hear the owl or the wind. Amanda HarlechThis reminds me of one night when my sister and I were in the backyard and heard an owl hooting. We were both silent just struck by the moment when all of a sudden, from the highway, we heard a driver go by screaming out “Mother F*cker!” into the perfect silence. Another pause and I said “That’s nice”. To this day we still laugh hysterically at the juxtaposition of perfect…

"St Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was!       The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold..." From The Eve of St. Agnes by John Keats

"St Agnes' Eve---Ah, bitter chill it was! The owl, for all his feathers, was a-cold..." From The Eve of St. Agnes by John Keats

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