Sound and Silence
I’ve always been a city girl. My nights were full of sirens and people, so many people, so many that you sometimes almost missed the skitter of rats across the subway tracks. Pigeons kept to the daylight mostly, squabbling in noisy clashes of feathers on my office windowsill, on the eaves of the subway stop, in the unfortunate architecture of the laundry room entryway. Before I moved I had taken to draping Teddy’s old towel across the clean laundry. Otherwise, the pigeons would sense opportunity and do their damndest to land a bullseye on my clothes.
