Day 32.

I can recall the sound of my street waking up.
From before.
The sound of the scraping of chairs that the waiters were putting in place, getting ready for the day.
Now when I wake up I hear the birds and the white noise of the river.
(I also hear every car that goes by because there are so few of them).
I heard the birds before too but only at dawn.
And at night time now I hear crickets (I think that’s what they are).
Part of me misses the sound of the chairs.
Sometimes I miss the music that the buskers would play (I’m undecided on whether I miss the didgeridoo player).
But I know one day they will all come back.
And I think I’ll miss the water gushing.
And the birds calling to one another.