In truth, there is absolutely no sound behind it, and yet I believe it to be audibly noisy. As one silently reads a written word, seldom is there ever a true noise correlating to the text around them. At least not that others can hear. It begins with a voice in our head. A voice that simply reads the words back to us, no one else can hear it. What’s magical however, is the voice transforms. Suddenly we begin to hear different voices, characters. As though they are living within us, breathing words and air, alive. This then becomes real noise. The noise that has absolutely nothing to do with words. Such as a slap, or an explosion. Words allow us to hear this, even as it is not the true sound. The noise surrounds us, envelopes us, taking us to a place or world in which we may need to cover our ears. As we cannot think straight because we are surrounded with a place that is simply too loud and exponentially full of noise. That is not all. The written word allows us to hear emotion. To hear the feelings so that it allows our hearts to beat a long with it. Strikingly scary, beautiful, and indescribable. The written word makes more noise then we will ever truly be able to hear. It screams to us. Penetrates walls we have built ourselves as for a moment we allow ourselves to listen, to hear. It demands it, and we give in to it. As though entranced by a fictional spell, that only we ourselves feel, as the words dance off the page, singing.