It's quiet outside; quiet enough to hear the electrical lines buzz with moisture, and the trains from miles away.

I can stand outside, and imagine I'm in another world; a world of shadows and silence.

I'd be a ghost, a phantom travelling along those power lines, flitting from house to house, neighborhood to neighborhood, seeing through the darkness to the mysteries of the night. Untouchable, unreachable.

That static when you changed the channel. The space in between radio stations. That'd be me, watching silently.

Observing a world I'm not a part of, seeing the unseen.