this is where we look for things
02.16.03 - 8:30
the little sounds of life that tell you that you're not alone here. the water rushing through the pipes and the low buzz of voices through the too-thin walls. someone else's doorbell. hinges creaking, hugs and hello's. someone's baby, a gurgling laugh. when the music isn't on, for whatever reason, it's replaced by this mish-mash of sound, an everyday symphony. it's just people living their lives and i roll over in bed and pull the covers up to my ears so i can go back to sleep. i'm not making any noises tonight.
you can trace the nature of their conversations by listening to the highs and lows. arguments and stories, politics and sports. sometimes i talk to myself and the cadence is different, not easily recognizable. it's 8:30 and they're clearing dishes from the table. the sink is filling with hot water and the disposal is running. the glasses clink as they're gathered together and placed in the soapy water. someone turns a television on.
across the way the apartment is still waiting for tenants. the blinds are up, halfway, and i can see into the space, dark and empty. i'm not quite sure where the voices are coming from. they're getting louder now. maybe the downstairs neighbors? or the apartment to my right? the water's running again. the baby's crying. someone's trying to shush it, i can hear the murmurs, the soothing shhhhhh.
we're all locked up tight in our little boxes. we answer only to ourselves. someone sounds happy to see you. i turn the lights off and wait for tomorrow.
