The loudest sounds happen in the quietest places. Mostly I hear my heartbeat, regularly thumping with a rhythm of its own. It echoes in my ears as I climb the hill. It is beautiful here, always. My thoughts are loud in my mind, as usual I am comfortable with them rattling around my brain. It is different thinking when walking, I move to a meditative state along these familiar roads, trees and views. They give me the space to hear myself. I mustn’t get too insular though, I don’t want to miss the crash of the waves as I reach the top of the hill. I hope there is no one around, for this is my favourite place to be, and I would rather not share it. Down at the shore I am letting the noise of the waves wash through my head, listening to the gulls calling, the clouds are running by and the wind is whipping up. There is a peace in this place, for here I can hear my ancestors, also on this beach, perhaps also thinking thoughts. For nothing is new, all my troubles have been dealt with by those gone before. There is a peace to that, and to the silence of the noise of the sea.