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2009-07-08 - 11:37 p.m.

There is so much noise out my window. Just now, a helicopter, far off, but not far enough off that I can't hear it circling. Two kinds of sirens, too, one a cop and the other an ambulance, or maybe a fire truck. The skittering of a dog's nails on concrete, the jangle of its collar, the softer skiff-skiff of its owner. Summertime flip-flops. The whine of an electric saw. That unidentifiable noise a car engine makes, not the motor, not the tires, not a door banging shut, but that high-pitched rotating whine that sounds like a banshee trapped inside a drinking glass. A shout, a laugh, a harmonica playing "Ode to Joy." And, beyond all of that, the soft hum of a hundred air conditioners, a thousand cars, a dozen buses, even a little breeze, all of it the hum of a city, the song of a million-faceted beast that never quits, never dies, just keeps on revolving, new ones taking the place of the old.

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