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Lie down and listen to the sound of children screaming at dinnertime. Soon the bell will ring and their small bodies will be filed in an orderly fashion. Led back into place. The quiet classroom bright with sun. This brief lull of silence will be routinely interrupted with the sound of a dog in anguish. Desperate for somebody to let it back in. The distress rising in it’s voice as time nears 3, or 4, or 5. The innocent hours. Meanwhile, planes dot the sky and fly on obliviously, nosing through thin chalk-like cloud marks: creating a unique wind noise. I picture a giant, breathing out. The big king of everything. And maybe the occasional siren will sound too. My ears are tuned to all of these changes. The comings and goings. Barricaded within brick, little surprises me. I have lost a lot. I don’t mind. There’s always more.
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