Colleges had sent me things because I did well on my SATs, though unfortunately not well enough to warrant much in the ways of scholarships, and this one I had kept in my Geometry book throughout my senior year. I don’t know why it was in my closet. I suppose I’d saved it because it was so pretty. Senior year, I spent dozens of hours studying the photographs as though if I stared at them long enough and longingly enough I would, by some sort of osmosis, be transported into their clear, pure silence. Even now I remember those pictures, like pictures in a storybook one loved as a child. Radiant meadows, mountains vaporous in the trembling distance; leaves ankle-deep on a gusty autumn road; bonfires and fog in the valleys; cellos, dark windowpanes, snow.

What do you think the narrator mean by the phrase ‘clear, pure silence’?
What impression do the two adjectives create?