porch

Having no music doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would. There’re lots of other sounds that take its place—the chirping of birds, the cries of all sorts of insects, the gurgle of the brook, the rustling of leaves. Rain falls, something scrambles across the cabin roof, and sometimes I hear indescribable sounds I can’t explain. I never knew the world was full of so many beautiful, natural sounds. I’ve ignored them my entire life, but not now. I sit on the porch for hours with my eyes closed, trying to be inconspicuous, picking up each and every sound around me. –

– Kafka on the Shore by Haruki Murakami