The pulsing hum of motors; the sharp beep of a pedestrian walk light. A harmonious cacophony of sounds flows onto my eardrums. All encompassing, the wind acting as a messenger but still having its own voice heard. And causing reactions to all they touch: a scuttle of leaves running across the pavement, a snap of branches against a building, a cry of a person who has lost their hat as payment to the messanger wind. A mixture of bold honks and subtile rings of the phone in the pocket of my jeans. I don't pick up, but I listen. Listen to the sounds of the city.