Experience is information. Noise is signal. Sounds have meaning. Chris Richards
The air conditioner yawns awake and blesses us with its freshening. The truck outside trundles merrily by leaving a wake of air and dirt. The ambulance is somewhere surprisingly hard to find until it’s upon us. Within everything birds sing their songs to each other.
Space is a big room with everyone yelling in it. The Earth is a much smaller room but it’s still much bigger than each of us. Our bodies are rooms smaller still but they’re mostly quiet we think. And within everything the birds keep singing their incomprehensible songs.
They fight amongst themselves over whose song is prettiest. They sing louder and louder until nothing else can be heard. They don’t notice all of us covering our bleeding ears and wincing.
For our part we’re just hoping it’ll stop. We don’t know how long we can keep this up. Eventually the birds might sing themselves dead and we’ll have peace.