The Sound of a Quiet Room

Auditory Texture

We often talk about seeking silence, but silence is an elusive, living thing. In my studio, silence isn’t the absence of sound; it’s a specific composition of the distant hum of the refrigerator, the wind pressing against the windowpane, and the rhythmic scratch of my own pen.

When I find my mind wandering, I’ve started a new ritual: I stop and catalog these textures. By acknowledging the environment, I become a part of it rather than an intruder trying to force a thought. This auditory grounding usually brings the focus I was chasing right back to the center of the desk.

The Monroe Minute
Close your eyes and name four distinct sounds in your “silent” room. Acknowledge them, then return to your work.

Until the next page,
Sloane S. Monroe

Sloane Shay Monroe

I don’t write to idealize love, but to explore it honestly, with emotional precision and depth.