Museum of Small Sounds

Welcome.

Please keep your voice low.

Some sounds are very small.

The click of a lighter

the turn of a key the cup on the table you placed

next to me

A zipper at midnight

a chair on the floor the second your footsteps stopped outside my

door

No one saves these things

no one writes them down But every little sound

knows where it happened

In the museum of small sounds nothing disappears A spoon against a

glass a laugh I almost missed

The door you closed too softly

the breath before goodbye

In the museum of small sounds everything survives

Keys. Glass.

Rain.

Shoes.

A match.

A breath. The hum of the fridge at quarter past two A

page being folded a message from you The train doors closing the

kettle downstairs Someone in the hallway dragging a chair

No one thinks to keep them

until they’re gone

Then suddenly the smallest sound becomes the loudest one

Track one: someone coming home.

Track two: rain on an open window.

Track three: a voice saying— never mind.

keys glass rain

steps

breath door acks

train

Play that one again.

In the museum of small sounds nothing stays the same A moment

becomes an object when someone gives it a name The things we

barely noticed are the things we recognize

In the museum of small sounds nothing really dies

Thank you for listening.

The museum is always open.