back to eavesdropping.
i am always trying to catch people going at it. doin’ the thang. just to know the precise type of joy i am surrounded by, and feeling. rarely am i successful, though. if my neighbors are getting busy, they’re being quiet about it. all this listening has made me aware, however, of how many small sounds of pleasure we make over the course of an ordinary day.
hog maw 
lately i’ve been fascinated with thinking of apartment/houses as these boxes of stories. I walk my dogs and see lights turn on and off at every deserted corner and think “there;s a full life in there!’. mystery behind the walls; characters, plots, conflicts all awaiting to be uncovered. am i turning into Wynona alá stranger things this quarantine? maybe. not a bad pivot in life. but it’s hard not to see the beauty or sign of existence (of life!) as little lightbulbs start their nightly dance. So continue your observations, it’s rewarding to see how every box you open and place your magnifying ears to plays better than any netlix binge at the moment– and with better acoustic at that!
okay but also must insert mandatory warning to not take it too far. don’t want another talese situation in our hands. https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/04/11/gay-talese-the-voyeurs-motel
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