Everything speaks...In silence

A story about the beauty of silence (Tokyo chronicles).

In a world, where everything is rushing by in a hurry, nature reminds us to pause, take a deep breath and simply be. For a moment that is ours alone, as fleeting as a snowflake touching a stone. There it is, and then it is gone.

“Why did you come to Japan?” a reported asked us eagerly. “I want to visit places that are touristy, but mostly those that are not. I want to see how people live and what they do,” I replied. It was the best I could come up with after more than 24 sleepless hours of travel and a huge camera in my face. He thanked us profusely and handed us a sticker from national TV. “For the memory,” he said.

The sticker in question.

The city rose before us like a massive wave. From our taxi, we watched as it unfolded, growing before our eyes-from small residential houses to towering skyscrapers. It was my first time seeing these man-made mountains, stretching into the clouds, defying gravity. And yet, there was a kind of harmony between the tiny houses and the tall towers, between the old and the new.

The main Tokyo train station and the neighbouring buildings.

As we stepped out of the taxi, a sudden burst of noise snapped us out of our awe. Not surprising, of course, for a city of over 37 million people. And millions of tourists to add to that number. Rivers of people surged from every direction, converging into the sea of crowds at the Shibuya crossing. Like waves crashing against the shore, the noise echoed off the tall buildings.

One of the rivers of people.

Everything made noise, and most things spoke (literally!). The chirping of traffic lights, the stairs reminding you to watch your step, elevators warning you it is about to close its doors. While It was fascinating and exciting to see so many people in one place, to observe how they moved and lived between the buildings, it all became a bit overwhelming. So we decided to search for a park. We swam through the crowds like some kind of fish, until we reached an opening that we hoped marked the entrance to a park.

The Japanese cherry tree.

The park greeted us with colourful cherry trees swaying in the gentle breeze. From time to time, the majestic trees would drop a petal at the gathered crowds, and the children would rush to catch it, ignoring their parents’ pleas to pose for a photo. Yes, there were crowds here too. But there was a quiet sense of tranquility, a kind of silence that only nature can offer to a heart. We did not speak a words to each other, just listened to the trees. Because we know that everything speaks in silence.

Thank you so much for reading my book! This is my first short story on Substack, inspired by my travels in Tokyo, Japan. What do you think? Do you like reading short stories? While I usually write only poetry, I had a lot of fun writing this piece.

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Love,

Miriam