Monday, July 17, 2017


Walking back from the Auberge where we ate lunch, thru the gardens a bird trilled his opinion of the world.

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
What I don't often hear, is the sound of total silence. Even in the country or the woods, there can be the rustle of trees, the wind whispering.

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.

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