I hope to hear the conversation of people passing by along
the street and I hear the occasional whoosh of a car going by. I lie awake waiting for the reassuring sounds
of other humans. I’ve come to be
grateful for the occasional all night sessions at the local church and the
belching of compression brakes on buses and trucks on the road. I dislike the ping of the latest plague (this
time grasshoppers) hitting the corrugated roof and the banging of the roof
contracting and expanding. I don’t mind
the high pitched squeals of the bats, but I do mind the thud as they fly into
the beams in the roof. I hear the scurry
of things in the roof space and the buzz of hundreds of insects outside.
I lie awake and listen to these sounds in the silence and I
am relieved when daylight arrives and once again I can hear singing and shouts
and radios and bikes and taps running and pots clanging and mortars
pounding. And then I know I am never
really alone.
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