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  • ‎4 am, the middle of the city is as silent as it can get. The air is warm, even though it's january. I can hear, far from my building, the low, ominous rumble of a city bus; stopping and starting at corners and kiosks, complaining and empty. My sleep dumb mind is searching for reasons to stay awake....or slip back into the nest of sleep. Sleep wins, and the next thing I hear, as I surface again, is the morning call of city birds, chirping and singing with a sense of abandon one rarely hears in this place of deep cement and brick canyons. I am at once charmed. My happy bell starts to chime and wakefulness takes hold. I lay there thinking about those birds who mistakenly think they live in a protected, warm forest of plentiful nesting spots and safety from storms. The parking garage birds. Sometimes one even lands on my windowsill and blesses me with a private aria.
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