I Hear Music

This afternoon, while working at home, I heard someone playing the flute. I've heard her (or him) play before, but I don't have any idea who it is. She just plays arpeggios; she never actually plays a song. I wouldn't mind if she did. It's kind of nice to have a little background noise. Without it, I just sit here in the quiet. I like the quiet. I can't work with music or a podcast playing.

When I was living in NYC, I had a boyfriend who had an apartment in the East Village. One of his window faced onto a big courtyard. It reminded me of Rear Window, but he didn't really have a good view into anyone's apartment like James Stewart does in that movie. I can't really see into anyone else's apartment here either, which is probably good as it means they can't see into ours either, huh?

Anyway, sometimes on a cool spring Saturday morning we'd hear someone across the way practicing the clarinet or the trombone. I always remarked about how romantic it was. I like how the sound of someone practicing an instrument all alone in their apartment becomes a sort of public performance. My mother always said that she enjoyed hearing us practice - not that we practiced our instruments that much. He - the boyfriend - would bristle and talk about how much he hated it and wished there was a law against noise pollution like that.

Oh well, it was New York. I've been threatening to take up the harmonica for a couple of years now. (That's what I need - one more hobby.) Maybe someone will hear me and blog about it.

And the circle of life goes round and round.