Years ago I shared an apartment with a guy who used to take a month-long vow of silence whenever the mood struck him. He was the night cleaner at the coffee shop where I worked and played in a band (or sang? I can’t remember now). The apartment was absolutely frigid—my room was a kind of closed-in former second-story sun room and it was the middle of a Minnesota winter—but it was cheap and we got along fine.
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