Silence is rare. Even at the quietest times, like the depths of night, or sunrise, or in the middle of the desert, or at the top of a mountain, there is still sound.
Our own breathing.
Cars travelling on a distant road.
But death is silent. It occurred to me when I came across some marine critters that had washed up on the beach. Alive no more. And eternally silent.
For happier thoughts and more beach combing finds, check out my sailing blog: beach combing and bully beef…