The orthodox church in Valamo is small and cozy. Brother Timoteus has set many lights on the candlesticks around the space. Everybody who has entered in after a late evening listening is given a little red candle to light and insert it as part of the already twinkling cloud of lights. People move around very slowly trying to find a place in the church hall. There are no benches, just a big carpet in the middle of the floor where people seem to seek shelter from the sounds of their own steps on the bare stone floor. Breathlessly the group seems to wait for the sounds getting less and less until all rustles have fallen silent.
Only the clock on the wall ticks. Now we can hear it. The ticking reminds about time. But softly. The rhythm does not sound regular but like an old man being absorbed in his own thoughts when walking, hobbling. With the same rhythm our simultaneous presences in the shared same atmosphere keep running away. Our presences must be very different. Still we need time to prepare ourselves to exit the door away from this journey towards less and less. It is evident that nobody wants to burst the bubble. Let the silence first pass by.