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Silence. - Nobody wears a white coat any more...
...a tribute to becoming a doctor.
ayradyss
ayradyss
Silence.
At four in the morning, the sky is still black, not even touched with a hint of dawn. The world is silent, dark, still, the sound of cars passing somehow muted. Trees like paintings, lit from below, casting shadows up into the sky, buildings flat, unalive, the silhouettes of things within shadowed dimly on the windows. And the wind - for there is wind; when I stop I can feel it against my cheeks, the slow sensual draw of heat away from my body, coat-enwrapped - the wind is so subtle, so soft, that not even the leaves stir.
At four in the morning, I am walking through a painting of a city, floodlights driving away the shadows where danger might lurk and casting everything into a two-dimensional relief. I move; nothing else moves. It is still, silent, and I am afraid even to speak. How can a city so vast and populated seem to hang so delicately in the night?


I never hurry in the mornings, no matter how much or how little time I have. It takes me ten minutes to get from my car to the OR, ten minutes of measured steps in the silence and the darkness, not the businesslike, hurried, purposeful strides inside the hospital. It takes me ten minutes of letting the night sink into my bones and cool my blood, carry away the haze of sleep from the hours before. It is slow, it is subtle, it keeps me going through the first hours, until the sun first brightens then hues the sky, bringing with it the reminder that all things must wake, and dream, and die.

now feeling:: peaceful peaceful

whisper a word