A WALK AMONG VOICES

Walking along a crowded street, it occurred to me that everyone's brain is talking to them, just as mine is talking to me.  It's a veritable beehive of mental voices. 

They are private voices, of course, and silent for the most part, although occasionally I see someone's lips moving, or I notice a raised or furrowed brow, registering an emotion that the voice in the head has elicited.

What becomes of these voices?  They are dust in the wind, naturally, which, considering all the mental voices that there are in the world, is an awful lot of dust.