In the silence of a broken tv old stories clamour. Without the noise of distant horrors and injustices, old and Intimate pains begin to throb. The distraction of the world’s tremors is lost and what has been forcefully swallowed regurgitates pushing out into this unsought silence. Is this a healing? Are these imprisoned stories releasing into a cleansing or into renewed nauseous festering. Is there meaning in the silence?