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‘Was it your first time?’ Her voice was not how I expected it to be. Slightly courser and deeper than her small frame would suggest, with an accent I couldn’t quite place. European, maybe. Out of habit I nodded, before realising I could finally speak. ‘I like your shirt.’ She laughed. With my Filipino face and Australian accent, I suppose that was not what she was expecting either after ten days of silent company. I met her on day one at chore time. Thankful I did not end up with toilet duty for my ten days here, I grabbed the mops we had been given whilst ducking my head gravely with obvious sympathy as I passed by those less fortunate. A shadow moved along the forecourt in front of me and I looked up to see a girl, smiling as she reached across me for a mop. She wore fisherman pants and a track jersey with the name of what I assumed was her university. I smiled back. Later that night fire ants stormed into my bed, following the scent of the crumby remains of my last sweet indulgence before I signed myself up to the confines of the hermitage. It was a literal sting in the arse – just in case the hard, concrete slab of a mattress was not enough of a welcome. Scrambling up in pain and fists clenched, I yelped, but my voice shrunk in obedience to the rules of the silent retreat until my frustration slowly petered out into the night and the ominous peal of the bell rolled in to signal a new day. Routine eased my initial teething pains as I adjusted into the rhythm of the monastery alongside my new friend, the track runner. The shag of my mop swished across the floor in silent choreography with the runner girl as our mops met from across the hall each day. No talking. No reading. No exercise. We would sit, meditating, and I followed the wind running through the grass, rustling the trees that grasped at the sun, as silence birthed life anew, regardless of our voices not being amongst it. Within the confines of the refuge we seemed so far away from the cacophony of the world that rushed around it. Finally, after ten days, we stood across each other, our bags packed and having just been dismissed. The path I entered through ten days ago weaved up the hills in the distance, and I envisaged the sounds of the outside world welcoming us: touters bellowing in Thai, tuk-tuk drivers weaving through and the sound of the ferry heaving in to send us off. ‘Well, all the best out there.’ With that I watched her run ahead of me, breaking into a sprint with the wind.