There is some event going on over on the baseball fields. I hear drums and shouting. There is the wind screaming into my window and the roar of the highway 3 blocks away. Cars drive by on the street with windows open and bass thumping, and when the sun feels like it, it might just peek out from behind the clouds, granting us sunlight for a brief moment.

Every 15 minutes a bus goes by. “Number 8 Halsted, to 79th…” I can hear the announcement from my window, and then the bus squeals as it pulls out. The garbage truck backs up to the trash door of the dorms, beeping as it goes.

My roommate is washing dishes, mostly because I usually forget to wash them and she is kind enough to take over. The steady rushing sound of water fills the apartment and mixes in with other noises.

The wind chime that a friend sent me from Malaysia hangs by the window and sings when a gust blows in. Now rock music comes in from the fields and clashes with the chime.

Sometimes I miss the quiet, the sound of birds and the wind in trees instead of between buildings. But I really like knowing that the world is alive.

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