A bakery, with its freshly baked cakes and pastries. The warmth and sweetness emanating from each window, exiting through the chimney to tickle the noses of everyone who walks by. The aroma, so inviting even the most cynical of humans can't help but feel glimmers of joy. Memories flow through the minds of many as they gather the whiffs of the sugar and dough in to their nostrils. No need for speaking, the olfactory sense as keen as a bloodhound. Silence, the need to feel at ease in one's own mind and in one's surroundings can be a beautiful and serene thing, akin to the smell of a freshly baked birthday cake.

On the other hand, silence can be rancid. It can veer abruptly from replenishing to repugnant.

It can induce feelings of panic. It can stir feelings of rage. Blood boiling and hearts racing.

Silence can smell like putrid sewage. The kind you experience when close to a garbage truck. Foul. Eye watering. The kind of silence that occurs when someone has said something so hurtful, so wounding that one is void of any words, any response. The type of silence when two people, once in love no longer seek to speak to one another. The animosity cutting through them like knives to fresh from the oven bread. This silence is like inhaling the scent of trash. Suffocating and overwhelming.

Silence can be a beautiful reprieve. Muffins and pies and jubilation. Or it can be a painful reminder of the volatility of this existence. Decaying, revolting refuse.

Yin and Yang. Good and Bad. Happy and sad.