XIII

I have taken to walking around all day wearing earplugs. They are small, and blue, and soft. It is a nice thing to find a quiet space away from the bustle of the busy city, away from the bustle of the busy city dwellers. Sometimes, of course, some of the latter will approach me to mouth empty sentiments, and I'll say, "What?"

They undoubtedly make strange gestures, point to their ears. One can assume they're saying, "You've got earplugs in your ears!"

To which I can simply shrug and say, "I don't follow you, sorry."

Sooner or later they'll leave, and I can return to whatever I was doing: cooking soup over an open fire in Times Square, hammering nails into a watermelon, or chucking Skittles at wild otters. It's nice to have earplugs--so soft, so blue--to have a haven away from it all.

I only remove them at night, when the untamed sounds of the night infest my dreams.