Lotus Temple

This entire atrium seems to be stuck inside a wobbly 30 year old soft white silica-gel silence. Every action, every thought relaxes into existence. Every sound persists, trapped, fades rhythmically down to the floor until all that remains is a far-off roar — like that of the sea — undercurrent to the quivering silence. A girl behind me coughs; I hear her cough a thousand times. A boy beside her swallows, and I hear the two sounds mate over and over again, the friction achieving resonance. This dense lake of sound is the anchor to the silence superstructure, the rock upon which this temple is built. The silence is merely an airy ideal.

...

The girl coughs, louder this time, and everyone chuckles at the loudness.