Aphonia

You open your mouth — and nothing comes. No sound, no word, only air. Perhaps a rough whisper, fragile as old paper. The voice you have used your entire life as a matter of course has vanished. Gone. Silent. And with it a piece of your self-evident presence in the world, because suddenly you notice how much of you happens through your voice — greeting, answering, laughing, complaining, simply being there. All of that is blocked. What remains are gestures, notes, a whisper that reaches no one.