A beauty dressed in black and golf stands before you, her eyes closed and one hand held delicately to her chest. She sways softly, silently, as though she were listening to music you can’t hear.*

The silence is so long and profound that you begin to notice just how noisy your house is—you hear your clock ticking, your refrigerator humming, and your air conditioner blasting… has it always been so loud around here?

The silence persists, and this stranger continues to ignore you, lost in her own world.

Whatever she’s doing… she clearly very serious about it.

She continued to stand in stark silence, unmoving for what feels like an eternity.

But eventually she finally, FINALLY opens her eyes, raking a grand, sweeping bow after.

“The End. How was that? That was Door 33. Surely you recognized it. It’s an avant garde piano piece. Thirty-three seconds long by the composer John Gauge? Honestly, the man was a genius. I mean, the idea that music can exist without the presence of a single note. Breathtaking.”