I collect the silences, always have, always will. My favourite is the silence before a speech, with everyone waiting rapt and unsure whether they will be turned to laughter or pity.

But it caught me by surprise when the birds stopped singing, when the world held its breath as the sun was swallowed by the moon. The light faded to twilight and the hair stood on my head. A few minutes that seemed to stretch to something longer, each second charged with electricity.

Magically the sun reappeared and the birds sang with joy to greet this miracle. I smiled to myself at a silence so perfect it eclipsed all others.