Silence and bubbles in my monastery

I love writing as much as I hate talking. I could spend the rest of my life without uttering a single word. There is nothing I love better than to be silent. I exchange my very poor sight for total mutism. I would have the perfect excuse to keep my lips sealed. silence

Even when I answer the phone on my birthday I get irritated. Have I reached such extremes as to be advisable to consult with a psychiatrist? I just love my meditations, always in my head, making no sound. So I find very attractive monastic life. I picture myself all alone in a cell, just meditating in silence. A bed, a table and a comfortable chair. My laptop, tablet and headphones. A mat and clothes to perform Pilates excercises. Writing, meditation and Pilates workouts is all I ask. I only allow first-degree relatives to come and visit me once a week. I can gladly do without visits from second and third degree relatives. I will tell the nun at the turnstile she must never allow them to get in.silencio

I would love to have telepathic abilities. Mental communication would relieve a lot of my stress. It is so direct and immediate! From my head to yours and vice versa. Without moving a single muscle. Mouth shut, tongue still. Oh, yes, happiness is a huge bubble of silence, a gigantic soap bubble floating away with you inside!

silence

Bubbles. I love them. How I am hypnotized watching the bubbles float up to the sky! I add this other activity into the monastery’s schedule. Of course, to make the biggest bubbles I have to find a suitable formula; mixing water and dish soap in a random way doesn’t work. Remember that I need some space to get into my bubble. I am slim but also claustrophobic. Shall I use tap water or mineral water? How many doubts! I’ll google that.

And continuing with bubbles, I also love to pop tiny air bubbles that cover the plastic wrapping paper.;
I will take some sheets of bubble wrap to the monastery and will hide to pop them fast where nobody can hear me. One sheet every day. Curiously, the popping noise that those tiny air bubbles make doesn’t bother me. Sometimes I reach a furious popping paroxysm and start stepping on the bubbles frantically. An elegant flameco tapping: heel, toe, and sole of the shoe. The problem is the noise I make, a little bit (although I try to tap my feet to the rhythm of the popping to make it acoustically pleasant). Shall I be given an exemption in the monastery in order to perform this cathartic activity?

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