sound and noise-
two chapters of the same book.
Sound: the quiet ripening of music notes over wind, or the fluttering of bird and butterfly wings.
Noise: the static between radio stations, gun fire, weeping.
There would be no such thing as the overlooked if there wasn't anything highlighted, and so I would not be writing about our neglect of sadness unless there were such a thing as happiness.
young love and youth and destruction and dreams are all noise, all left in the shadows of their more bright, elder predecessors.
And we mistaken noise for sound more often than not, which makes the ability to hear a blessing and a curse.
For we mistaken a teen's cries as a sign of teen angst, or a mother's book of rules as a restriction of our lives, and the noise we think is being produced is the music of our lives. Sound isn't beautiful, sound is real. Noise is heard, sound, you feel.
So before you go labeling something as noise, remember what is missing: noise implies that everyone can hear, but no one is listening.