First there was light. I didn't realise how bright it was, when everything was swimming in it. The world was big, there was space, I could really breathe. but things were very quiet. I remember my first sound, it was like an explosion. unexpected and bizarre. I was unaware of time back then, because I hadn't experienced it yet. or at least I hadnt consciously experienced the consequences of time. All I had known was light, and the space, the colossal hugeness of existence. So without a comparison, I couldn't say how long my first sound lasted. but it was magnificent. deep and bassy, a truly literal resonance combined with a metaphorical one. Because when sound was born, vision died. Somehow I fell into the hole, or perhaps I was put there. now I had a new world -the black world. I didn't need to see anything any more, because when I had adjusted to the deep blackness of the hole, I rejoiced in its acoustics. I could dance without fear, and cause my own rhythms with my feet and hands. The vibrations were my warmth. I wrapped myself in a blanket of noise within the coldness of the hole. combined with the joy of listening came the disappointment of my own ignorance. It took a long time for me to realise that these beautiful melodies that rained down upon me would not be so beautiful if it were not for the bum notes, the unfinished songs, and potential for exellence is not possible without potential for disaster. so I put up with disaster. I learnt to put up with a new dance - the acceptance dance. Without it the shrill shrieks from below horribly mixed with the deep booms from above were not sound, they were pain. they ripped my ears to shreds.
I soon noticed the correlation between sound and movement. First would come the terrible earthquake, I would be thrown into space, thrust against an invisible black shield, then dropped, falling, slipping if I was lucky against the smooth curving sides of the universe, then the world would turn on its side and everything would be upside down once more. This was a terrifying experience every time, immersed in utter blackness being thrown around -but I got used to it, and soon got excited at the movements because I knew that next would come the surge of hypnotising anaesthetising noise.
Soon enough, when everything went quiet again there would be a floating moment, then a crash, and sleep. I remained unaware for so long that I was trapped here. I had presumed, naturally, that this was it. There was no outside, there was no one else, there never had been. The light had been a dream - so I thought. but after I don't know how many movements I started to notice something about sound itself. there were two kinds - the noises that naturally happened, and the noises that I made myself. This may sound like an obvious point, but I had no reason to realise it until I actually thought about it. Then, after much confusion and deliberating over this, I decided that if I was causing some of these noises, then perhaps the other natural sounds that had nothing to do with me were caused by someone else, another being, or another me. I was scared. I couldn't escape, there was nowhere to run. When you live in a universe of blackness, there is nowhere to run that is any different to where you are. The concept I had given myself and followed, and had until now been given no reason to debate, was now under threat. Now every sound, every beautiful twang, was another prod at my aching brain. When I grew tired of my own fear, I willed myself out of it by sheer observance. I chose to be quiet, so as to hear the outside world by listening intently to the walls. I knew now that there was an outside, that I was not the only one. I started to differentiate the sounds - those that seemed close and loud, and those which were more distant.