Day Ten: The Silent Bell

Part II: Silence and Sky continues in a day so still it seems to listen to itself. No wind stirs the trees. No birds break the air. Even the loom sounds louder in the hush, each movement echoing against a quiet that feels almost weighty.

In The Silent Bell, the weaver is drawn away from her work and toward the village chapel, where a bell has not rung in years — said to be frozen into silence. Inside the tower, moonlight spills in pale blue-silver bands across the floor, illuminating the frayed end of the bell rope like a single loose thread waiting to be gathered.

She does not pull. She only listens.

What follows is not sound, but the promise of it — a breath, a tone waiting to be born. When she returns to her loom, the pattern seems to have heard it too, shaping itself in quiet arcs that mirror the bell before it swings.

Welcome to Day Ten — where silence deepens, patience is practiced, and even stillness prepares for song.