i am walking down another empty street in this ghost town. tall grey concrete 1940's and 50's monuments to the dead american dream on either side of me. i am walking towards a sound. i can just hear it under the silence. its a choir and the song is like nothing ive heard before. no words, just melody. no homage of submission to an imaginary man made god suprisingly made in mans image. just the most wonderous sound.
as i walk i begin to make out a giant cathedral at the end of this street, at least twenty block away. it is huge. the spires rise twisted and carved onto the mist. i walk and walk and walk. i once again fight the urge to run, only this time towards, not away. and as i walk i notice that the lights come on in some of the storefronts and lobbies as i pass. i hear the mindless static of entertainment long gone as radios turn on in cars as i make my way down the street.
slowly, the silence is filled with electric noise. static. blenders and toasters. televisions turning on to stations no longer broadcasting. it has a rhymic undulation underneath it all. i begin to move my hips to the sound. i am nearing the temple and i am dancing. i hear everything now. all i had to do was listen. car horns. plates breaking in empty diners. satellites transmitting to long gone empires. i hear empty ocean liners drifting toward the shore.
i hear a spoon fall to the floor somewhere and its sings. the choir is singing along. i have never known such a glorious sound. radios singing to radios. across the dried time logs on desks in front of them. singing so loud that pencils roll across dusty desktops and fall to the long faded carpeting below, silently. like the bird, without sound, the world turns round.
i stand in front of the cathedral. i dance up the steps and stop. i reach out and grab the double door handles. i pull the doors open.