A Man And A Woman -2016- 〈100% RECENT〉

Summer was a truce. They went to a cabin in the Laurentians. They swam in a lake so cold it erased thought. At night, he played her a recording he had made: the sound of a single needle dropping on vinyl, then the groove before the music. "This is what I love," he said. "The anticipation. The space where nothing has happened yet."

"It's high-frequency. Most people can't hear it. But if you're very still, it's like the universe whispering that you're alone." A MAN AND A WOMAN -2016-

She didn't say what she was thinking: And you only heard me in the silences between my words. Summer was a truce

"That's not love. That's surveillance."

The answer, like snow on a still street, makes no sound at all. At night, he played her a recording he

"Nothing is still a thing," Daniel said. He wasn't angry. He was precise, like his recordings. "Nothing has a waveform. It occupies space."

December. The election was over. The world was somehow louder and more hollow. Claire went to a gallery in Toronto. Daniel stayed in Montreal and finished his silence project: sixty minutes of nothing, released on vinyl. It sold seventeen copies.