Friday, 18 February 2011

Your call

I was walking back late past the market as the traders dismantled their temporary tent stalls, while my train of thought was distracted - interrupted - derailed - by the unnecessarily loud half of a conversation being shouted down a mobile phone. Such was the unvarying nature of his (for it was he) volume, it was hard to determine whether he was angry or this was his standard mode of communication. Then I thought about turning up the volume of my inner dialogue, when I realised you don't really hear your own thoughts, at least not as physics would understand it; it's not even like a neurosurgeon could tap into one of the brain's many junctions to eavesdrop on the conversational monologue - “listen in on the wire” so-to-speak. Though they might fantasise about it. And play it back in the private viewing room of their minds.


  1. We may not hear our own thoughts but the guy on the phone has not qualms about sharing his; he probably hears nothing but the wind's echo when he stops talking.

  2. Yes! Or perhaps the tinnitus you get after hearing a live band with their Marshall amps turned up to eleven. May be he loved live music and this explains his need shout. Or may be he was just a dick. Hard to tell. And may I should have asked him which of these options was, in fact, the case. Or, on second thoughts, may be not. That might have ended in two dicks shouting at each other.