Sia spoke in mono syllables and only when spoken to. She spent many hours seeking shelter in the words of Hugo, Hegel and Machiavelli. She walked aimlessly from one room to another, ate her meals silently and never watched TV. Her parents, though concerned for their 18-yr-old daughter, never let their worries be known.
One day, her mother heard soft whimpers from her room. She saw her curled up with her fingers tracing a scar on her knee. The roughness of her skin upset her. Yet, she continued to touch the scar till she drifted off to sleep. Her mother was to witness the same event many times over. But she never brought it up. She knew scars, both physical and emotional, took a long time to heal, and she feared the silence would be a permanent companion in her daughter’s life.
When Sia returned home from a walk one evening, she found a beautifully bound leather diary placed on her bed. Her natural urge was to write in it. The pages filled up and soon she needed a new book. This time she went out and bought one for herself. The cycle continued. Her closets full of diaries and novels. Her heart full of inspiration. She still spoke in mono syllables though and nobody else ever read a word she wrote.