Canvas-y

I wouldn't know anything else besides the feeling of both my feet planted flimsly on the ground below me.
And that's when it begins to hurt.
Realising that, in fact, the earth I happen to be on is not really there. That every rock and stone. That every - being and every blade of grass in a lawn full of duplicates, it isn't mine. It'll never be mine. I carry on in a blur so blurry, that the world is nothing more than a smear of paint across a canvas. And though I sigh deeply at the connotation that this dark blue smear has announced, I am in fact proud of this place.
One cannot stand forever, especially when this place is lacking everything essential for a human being to live in.
No, I won't be standing forever. When I hit the ground, (a known effect to the cause of falling) my body will emit such silence, that not one life will hear nor feel the end of me.

So now I ask... if I canvas falls in a gallery, and no one is there to hear it, does it make a sound?