The man who lives across the street from me yells.
A lot.
When I say, “across the street,” I mean that if I look out
my window, I can see directly through his window and into his apartment. There’s a reason I keep my blinds pulled down
at all times.
I can’t tell if he’s constantly practicing the same very
emotional monologue, or if he’s screaming at a person, or if he’s just crazy
and yells at the walls, but it always sounds exactly the same, with the same
inflexions and punctuation. After half
an hour of listening to it without understanding any words, it gets a bit
annoying. Especially at 12:30 a.m.
Add that to the sounds of the cars passing by, the girl who
lives next to me who talks loudly on her phone at the most absurd hours of the
day, the screaming teenagers in the hallway, and the people going in and out of
the shower right next to my room and you get …
Noise.
Welcome to New
York . You
learn quickly here to appreciate the silent moments in life, for they are few
and far between.
Wishing you the sweetest silence,
Little Me
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