Suebia, eh ?

I realised this morning that one can hear emptiness.
All the usual sounds that can be expected in a large appartement building located in a reasonable quiet neighbourhood, with some green around – even large trees -, and parking spaces over ground, balcony door open, through a bog-normal Wednesday late morning, like water rushing through pipes for whatever use, elevator doors clunking, car doors slamming, trees rushing in a lovely breeze, the occasional toddler yelling a bit – just stand there with eyes closed & listen … the place is empty.
Of course there may be scientific explanations that involve rugs, curtains and pictures on the wall, let’s not forget the lack of ameublement, but this is not what I mean.
It is not about silly sound waves behaving different, is not something missing, it is something else, something additional I can’t name.
To step in routinely like done for ages – “ages” may mean ten years and perhaps a bit more – comes to a halt when the usual choreography of moves stops because there is no more place to put the wallet and the keys – the shoe cabinet in the Diele (it is impossible to translate the name of this little anteroom with “hallway” or “vestibule” – it is a Diele or a Flur ) is gone.
Obviously something changed.
It is easy to say “And of course I am ready to move for this job”, it is easy to plan such a move, and have a look at the different pieces of stuff that surround one. It is a bit more challenging to search for and finally find a new appartement that “fits the bill” in all – or at least all serious – points. It can be a bit of a task to fill boxes with stuff – that seemingly has a life of its own, even after years of culling ; this usually leads to some introspection – and finally “the day” arrives : All is prepared, professionals move in, and within two hours the place is cleared, engines start, and something new begins. This can be a bit upsetting, worrying even.
DOn’t get me wrong, dear reader : This is not about an ending of sorts, a drama, it is about the aftermath of a new beginning.
It is only about a middle-aged man who switches off the hoover in a large empty room, closes his eyes, and listens.

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12 thoughts on “Suebia, eh ?

  1. There is an ineffable difference between the quietness of no sound and the silence of no one being there, of being totally alone. Similarly, an apartment, emptied of furniture and everything else, withdraws into itself. Hope the move goes well and your new place feels like home very soon.

  2. The very idea of moving, of emptying and cleaning a place that has claimed me as its own, is very unsettling. I’ve been in this house for 21 years and the only way I’m leaving it is in an urn.

  3. To verify, dear readers, and to prohibit wrong presumptions : I am not moving (yet), I am still in the Franconian metropolis for some time to come, hopefully sooner than later I will follow suit and will grace the Suebian wilderness with my Franconian enlightening charme – they will kiss my feet, I am sure !

    I think I once heared a house sigh after it was cleared and we left finally, dear Z.

    I can not imagine the total absence of any sound stille wasser LẌ, being absolutely deaf … does a human being who never heared have the possibility “to speak” to himself in his head ? How are thoughts “spoken” then, formulated ?
    I have no clue – and will watch the sumo robots again.

    The person who moved was living in this place for seventeen years Mr Peenee.
    As much as I like this appartement, and the view, I would happily change it for something with one more room, why not in Suebia ?

    Not yet, dear DIngsbums, but in foreseeable future the move is imminent. I had absolutely no problem with the dialect in the video. But in some corners of dr Alb

    So I am not a victim of a sonar fata morgana dearest Dinahmow !

  4. The quiet emptiness of a living space that has been divested of all its contents is a bit eery. If you want to experience a bit of what LX spoke of in his anechoic chamber visit, try floating. It is a sensory deprivation type of therapy that I find very relaxing. A large pod with a few inches of highly salinated warm water in which you lay back and just…. lay there. With the pod door closed, it is black and silent.

  5. Oh my goodness – what do you think of me Mitzi !

    … one day they will organise themselves, I tell you, and they’ll have their revenge for all these fries …

    WOuld bring me into a state of numbing panic Ponita, I’d return as vegetable, perhaps as a suicidal potato …

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