This is how Scream begins…
From Chapter 10. Scream
Can anybody hear her? Can she hear herself? When Paul, Stef, Mrs. Popa, and people on the street speak to her, can she hear? Trapped inside some obscure interior, she screams. She screams across the silence of dark spaces. There is light from another star. How does light travel through nothing? Against walls of light, she screams. Life inside the mute cells of her body is happening in continuous flow, and she screams. Cells burst open all at once, a whole, gone mad — love is crazy. The whole universe, in its stillness, is crazy.
Carola had the image of the terrible explosion of a lung alveolus when a baby gets out into light, this earth’s light. People, good or bad, are always there to assist the emergence, unaware of the terrible hurt. The unspeakable hurt, cataclysmic, at the crossways between light and dark. Oh, how this utmost alleviator, the human brain, engulfs the unspeakable, takes it upon itself to hide all inaugural hurt, the whole purity of hurt immemorial.
She thought that maybe that was why she had chosen to paint. Image could tell the unspeakable. That might be why visual arts had conquered the world. Besides, image was instantly accessible, was it not? Words took time, words came in lengthy explanatory sequences. They came in lines. Words took time to read. Who had time in this day and age? And who on earth could deal with words in prehistory? Carola smiled at this thought, but her smile, unaccomplished, stood still — in the beginning was the Word. Her mind got stuck. What if Word stood for some kind of principle, or better, the initial life spark? The spark that set the whole universe in motion. God’s particle.
But then, there was music. Listening to this music, it felt easier for Carola to understand everything. Her thought jumped to the music of celestial bodies. What if music came first, what if out of some vibrational body of energy stemmed all universes? What if Word was the spark of this universe only? Was she perchance being a sinner to dare consider celestial music higher above God’s universe?
“Carola, you are like in a trance. I’m here, with you.”
Carola awakened to the sound of Paul’s voice. He was speaking to her.
“Speak to me,” he was saying.
“Speak to me, this is—”
“Well, this was the first song, it’s devastatingly beautiful in its shortness, and its hard realism. But it is empty spaces I feel better attracted to. I want to breathe in empty spaces.”
“Darling, Empty Spaces is on The Wall.”
“I didn’t mean that, but literally empty spaces — well, more metaphysically than literally. Empty spaces are magnetic to me.”
“Oh, you’re killing me, Paul. Music is killing me. I’ve just remembered how I love Jarre’s Magnetic Fields, too. And you know what, although The Wall is not my favorite, your intuition has led you to the one single piece on it that shreds me to … pieces. Sorry, I can’t find another word. I’m too much into music right now.”
“My God, Carola, you should’ve made music. Right, what stopped you, when I see you are music?”
“Me. Myself stopped me.”
“You ran away from yourself?”
“Something like that. Now you see why I forbade myself to listen to the great music I love. I simply wanted to stay in one … piece.”
“And in peace, I understand you, dear woman.”
“Your understanding makes me feel good. But you still haven’t pinpointed my favorite of favorites. And we’ve missed the music, I’ll play it from the very beginning again.”