Solid cubes distant blocks, dense and fragile.
Red and white, the clarity of striking colours. Soft plastic shapes, neither fragile nor flexible.
Stillness, little movement, the air hangs quiet and calm. The silence interrupted with footsteps, distant cheerful voices.
The impossibility of comprehending the noise that would have filled the air. Sight and sound distractions to the other senses, beware of danger lurking all around. Mechanical movement; trapping, catching, hooking, snagging. Dusty particles in every wheezing breath, filling the lungs, coated villi left now to the imagination.
Visible visual installations suspended above the deathly still run of machinery
Voices both clear and distant
Rolling rumbling wheels dragged over the presumed wooden surface, gathered sounds quickly categorised in my head, compared with previous known sounds to add to the memory
Tales are told through the deep solitary voice as it drifts over the stilling noises, indistinguishable, unclear
Wooden cases, stacked high to the low ceiling
Fleecy waxy aromas as I turn the corner to walk away, footsteps resounding solidly on the boards beneath my boots
Nodding, smiling as another experience sets in, becomes known and connected to other previous experiences
My mind thinking and deciding, this connects to that, resolving the storage place in my mind. Oddly jarring as I realise my error; these are not fleeces, there can be no waxy, lanolin smell.
Walking back to reconnect and sense again and the aroma has gone, leading me to question my sensing, did I really experience that?
It were 'ard work
You'd smell it fust, then you'd start lookin'
Equal measures of awe and fear, played out in the volumous silence.