Music of the Street

Much as I relish music, I often find hours have gone by without the equivalent of spinning an album.  Is that the expression?  Or should I say, plugging into my iPhone music app, clicking on Pandora, streaming from… whatever. You get the audio visual.

Today temps in my flat at the Wyatt reached 80 degrees as the sun began to set to the west.  I closed up the windows and doors that I daily thrill to having flung open year round and I set both thermostats to COOL. 

The silence was deafening.My experience at home, at work tremendously altered.I felt there was a barrier between me and all the life outside my windows.

I cannot begin to imagine how I will miss the symphony of sounds of Portland’s Pearl District. There is the clink of silverware on a plate 11 stories below at Bridgeport Brewery, the jarring sound of a zillion glass objects  far, far too early in the morning being picked up and dumped into the trash trucks retrieving recycling at the ASA high-rise just to the south.  The barks of not-so-patient pups tethered outside Safeway or one of many neighborhood spa/salons, the engaging beat and musical strains of entertainment  from Pink Rose on Thursdays that pleasantly drowns out any attempt in my living room to follow a crime drama on TV. And the regular bosorius arrival of the Pedalongue party bike making the microbrewery rounds.

And did I mention the scents?  The dryer vents from other units that suggest a tropical island close at hand, the aroma of bacon cooking this morning that positively drove me to distraction while I ate fruit and Greek yougurt at my desk.

During the commercial breaks on Pandora a Fred Myers Grocery ad asks, “Have you ever woken up and said, “I live in the most wonderful place?”

“YES!” is my answer.  And then there are the sunsets. Oh…and street cars!


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