Blog #2: What I Hear

Most neighborhoods in NYC are quieter in the early mornings of the weekend. I take a walk through Woodside and Sunnyside, retracing areas I usually rush through during the week. The wind is rustling softly through the tree branches and bush brushes outside the apartment building. As I pass by a small alley, I can hear the the dance of a bag, kicking up as the wind whistles a little louder. A jogger passes me by, her short strides are heavy and her breathing labored. The streets are quiet but the cars along 43rd Avenue, waiting for the light to turn green, all have their engines on different keys. Some growl, some hum, and some thunder down the road when it's their turn to move. It's around 9 AM, and it seems most of the world is sleeping. I don't hear talking, television, the sounds of cooking wafting out of windows. What I do hear is birds chirping and the alternating keys of wind - soft whispers to strong whistles. Few people pass by, one person  here or there, rarely ever with a companion but talking on their cell phone, and their footsteps range from stalking fast to to soft, I barely hear them at all. A bus turns onto 48th Street as I wait for the light, rumbling by and breaking the mostly still silence. By the time I get to 46th Street, some shops are opening up, their owners greeting each other, some in various accented English and others in a language I don't understand. They are in good moods, commenting on their enjoyment of the nice weather of sun and blue sky. I've reached my halfway mark on the hour and turn right, toward Skillman where I can hear faint strains of Latin music. Sounds like everyone is starting to wake up.