This white noise surrounds and consumes. There is an overstated necessity to its infernal clutter, a relentless pace. I don’t want to plug my headphones in, turn on an app of falsity to find the relaxation I desire. I should sooner stick my head in a lake and shout at the fish. Is it so wrong to wish for birdsong, crickets playing their violin wings, the barking of an exuberant puppy? I think not. I hope not. There is nothing wrong with the sounds of life, I’m not saying that. I only wish they’d leave me alone long enough to make that decision for myself. If they do, I’ll lay back and listen to the sound of the rain on my window, the sun sizzling in the sky, or snow falling in whispers. If I’m very lucky, I might even listen to the most beautiful sound of them all: Silence.