The day before as I walked back from l'Hostalet thru the Place de la Republique, I heard Bach drifting down from a window. Hearing music from the music school in the old marie building is normal, but this was a third floor flat. I sat and listened for a few minutes.
So many sounds make up my days.
- The whine of the garbage trucks, followed by the thump of the emptied cans being put down.
- The church bells, especially at seven when they toll far more than the hour.
- Rick's soft morning snores
- A suitcase being pulled over the rough street
- A mosquito or fly
- Rick's shuffle as he walks to the bathroom
- The ding of the oven, stove stop or microwave when
- Jean-Marc giving his tour and talking about the architecture of our street outside my window
- The mushy whish of the dishwasher or washing machine
- The dull tap tap tap of computer keys
- An occasional car engine
- Water running (sink, shower, toilet)
- Footsteps upstairs
- Voices in a variety of languages
The one time I heard total silence was in Iceland, miles from nowhere when I was heading for the small house where I would spend the night. There was a beauty to it.