At the time, it didn’t seem like something worth talking about. We were sitting together in a hangar-like room in a warehouse. It was blustery outside and cold inside. We were at a meeting of a new collective to organise an upcoming demonstration, launching a campaign with casual service workers. The chairs were set up in a ring, you could see the faces of everyone around you – some you knew, others were unfamiliar. Everyone was sizing each another up. One by one, people began to introduce themselves. One by one the voices echoed around our ears. Some of them were confident, full of pep and verve, words tumbling all over themselves with enthusiasm. Some stuttered into the air, pausing and racing, staccato, nervous. Others were drawn out and understated. Some filled the space while others seemed swallowed up by it. And then, suddenly, it stopped. One person said nothing at all. A pause. Waiting. Nothing. And in that moment the room reconfigured itself around the memory of our voices, and the silence.