The sound of genius.

‘Genius!’ she mutters as she turns her satchel upside down and shakes.

Out falls commitment, consistency, and persistence.

No genius.

‘Where did it go?!’ she asks herself with an edge of exasperation and just a hint of doubt. ‘Have I lost it?’

She tries to remember exactly what it looks like…

Was it comforting and soft, in warm, gentle hues? Or solid and heavy, with bright, blazing colours?

Was it silent? Or did it sing? And, if it did sing, was it the beguiling song of a siren that demanded destruction as fiercely as creation? Or was it a sweet lullaby that sent thought sentries to sleep, and crept into unwatched spaces?

Ugh! Why can’t she remember exactly what it looks like? What it sounds like?


‘Narcissist.’ her mouth is dirty with the taste of it. ‘Self-obsessed ego-maniac!‘ she swears. She’s heard the noisy one use these words. Testing them out for size, she spits them out and lets them melt on the pavement. Let the noisy one use those ones if she likes; they’re noisy words, not meant for more loving tongues.


Quiet one closes her eyes.

One by one, she puts her things back in her bag –

Commitment with its 108 beads.

Consistency with its metronomic swing.

Persistence with its powerful magnetism.

Eyes closed, she feels these three softly click into place.

She smiles as realises, she remembers that sound…

Image from here.



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