The Sounds of Silence
Story and Photos by Lisa Dukart
The noise, the stress, the general nonsense that comprises every day life simply melted away with the shrinking Boston skyline. It was first washed away by the drops of mist flying through the air from the back of the ferry. Something about the salt of the Atlantic Ocean began to crack the shellac, my city veneer. It was as though the fading metropolis, which grew smaller and smaller as the boat moved further and further away from the shore was in direct proportion to stress. The smaller the Custom House Tower became, the less visible the Prudential Center, the freer I became.
All those things that coated me in stress slid off my body, like warm butter, under the heat of the sun. Stepping off the boat, onto the solid concrete dock on Spectacle Island, I finally felt alone. There was ocean in every direction, small slivers of other Harbor Islands visible. I nestled into one of the oversized green rocking chairs, absorbed the sun into my body, and the stress finally slipped off my toes with the gentle back and forth motion.
The sounds of honking cars, the clattering of the T, the strains of music from street musicians were all gone. Instead, there was silence. Almost. Silence filled with the gentle lapping of ocean on the rocky beach. The rhythmic strum of a sail cord hitting a metal pole. A sea gull calling out, its voice carried on the breeze.
Freedom, from the cityscape I could no longer see.
Sometimes you just need to get out, escape it, just for a few hours. To be an island unto yourself.
