Tuesday, September 14, 2010

The quiet thrum becomes a reassuring roar.

The quiet thrum becomes a reassuring roar.

My neighborhood is really quiet, even though we live hear one of the most bustling nightspots in Chicago. It's a weird little island and if it were located anywhere else I would probably be annoyed by many of its residents, however right now it's concocted of the perfect symbiosis of urban solitude. But at this hour in the morning, with everything around me so still, I realize just how noisy my neighborhood is. With no other sounds immediately around me -- no children playing, dogs barking, car doors opening and closing, neighbors barbecuing on their porches -- I can hear the constant drone of the highway. It's soothing, like crickets, and I notice with a start that I've never heard it before. It's thrum calms me more than my previous perception of my block's utter stillness ever did.

I am, always have been and always will be, a child of sound.

Painting by Christopher Buoscio

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