Sitting at my desk, the wind carries with it the humdrum of life outside.
The chaotic little shrieks of children playing just after school hours reminds me of my happy childhood where I played for long hours outside, till my mother came calling for dinner.
The incessant blaring horns signal a traffic jam somewhere in the lanes behind home, leading me to imagine the frustrated looks and words exchanged by those caught in its midst.
This week late at night, as I sat at my desk furiously working the laptop while the energy outside started to mellow down, the slow chirp of crickets filtered in through my window transporting me to another time.
I have always wondered what made their sounds grow louder and louder and then fall way low, before they began the ritual again? Often finding myself mimic their chorus or try and break their rhythm.
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