The person living behind sliding glass doors

There is a place, sometimes, where there is a person whose sole interaction can be with the white long-off silences that surround him behind the sliding doors- doors that always slide from left to right. Only he can see the glass slab sliding inexorably towards its sound-stilling full stop, that it happens too frequently in this period of time, four sliding doors of glass shutting him off from that which he may not see of himself.

Only visually, sounds remain a muted whispering of browning leaves and expectant trees, a musical prison, a happy place?

2 September 2011