The more noisy you are in a place, the more familiar you can smell it.
The more deeply hurt I am, the more I want to believe that time will be quiet and peaceful, and this world will be stable.
The weather was just right, the tables and chairs were similar, and the conversations were almost word for word.
At dusk, at dawn, at midnight, in the morning.
There is always a second of little nostalgia that defeats people with silence.