So I hear

The accompaniment to my day:

From the front bay window, the ring of the schoolbell at the Institut des Filles de Marie, and the cacophany of children playing during the never-ending recess (I assume different classes take turns, otherwise I'm not sure when these kids study). They are amazingly capable of constant shrieking, making me never want to be a middle school teacher. Or at least one who has recess duty.

Also from the front, the swoosh of cars and the clatter and squeal of the trams. At night, the electric cables sometimes flash so you think there is lightning.

From the living-rooom-wall neighbor, a constant undertone of top-40 radio, punctuated by the channel's theme ditty, "Rah-dio Con-tact!" sung in that cheesy pseudo-chorus of voices that I so absolutely loathe and is one of the reasons I hide within my heart an undying loyalty towards public radio.

We only hear from the bedroom-wall neighbor from time to time. She plays a beautiful Moroccan music that, although it sometimes is on at 8 in the morning, is not terribly bothersome.

From the kitchen, the coo and chortle of the two pair of Wood Pigeons that live in the back garden trees. I am very proud of myself for painstakingly identifying these birds via online bird-identification guides, because while I knew they must be pigeons or doves, I didn't know what kind. They are certainly much more beautiful and peaceful than the peckish city pigeons, and their color is a breathtaking dusty lilac-gray, with an almost pink breast, and a ring of white and shimmery green around the neck. I want to paint my house in the colors of those birds. I also like them because they are always there, and always in pairs. The neighbor's cat sometimes tries to sneak up on them, but they always notice in time.

You know, with children and doves as my audible outdoor neighbors, this is a veritable peacable kingdom. A calming influence for when I might wish to smash the Radio Contact machine.