The Dreamheron Diaries - স্বপ্নসারসের দিনলিপি

Monday, October 09, 2006


Driving along the backroads of the Banff National Park one winter, I came upon a large flat snow-covered expanse. In it was a herd of moose. They all had a snow cover on their backs. Some were standing, some were sitting. I pulled up, turned off the engine, and resolved to watch this scene until the car would get too cold to bear.

There was complete silence except for an occasional grunt, followed minutes later by a response grunt. The air was perfectly, perfectly still – not a leaf stirred. Those creatures that were standing were poking their noses into the snow in slow motion, perhaps looking for some vegetation. Somehow, the whole scene now seemed to have some type of dark meaning. The snowy field, the white silence punctuated by the guttural grunts, the looming prehistoric-looking creatures with their pendant shag.

Then, one by one, everyone sat down on the ground. The grunts also stopped.

I thought to myself: What of the idea of a last silence in this winterscene of the dead?