YOU NEVER HEARD SUCH SILENCE IN YOUR LIFE

It's not exactly a vacuum, there's a fairly steady sheen of insect song that threads and laces the otherwise silent air like an infinitely voiced chorus. No longer competing with that, however, is the syncopated wailing of the twins, an astonishing phenomenon I'd never heard before, having never been protractedly around infant twins before; but Mitsuki and Miasa can really get a thing going with their wall-piercing wails, working together quite synergistically as though it's built in, as though they can sense the approaching syncopation, then they go for it, and as they max out in sync, riding it like hanging ten on a sound wave, an amazing thing happens: they take on the resonance of a flock of ducks hovering low over a herd of irritated cats for as long as they can hold it, then the caterwaul just fades with the syncopation, but it'll be back any minute and the twins seem to know it, will no doubt use it to their advantage as they grow in intelligence and interspiritual cunning. But right now you never heard such silence in your life. Kasumi left yesterday afternoon to live in the house across the Lake and try to get into the groove of handling three kids as the one-woman band every multiple mother is. Thus Kaya is gone with all her cute and endless questions, the twins now three weeks old are gone also, taking their syncopated medley with them. As a result, you never heard such a deafening absence of sound as there is around here. It would fill an empty heart easily, and overflow into the surrounding countryside.