Caitlyn Mulcahy


I write on my laptop, I write on my books, I write on my hands. Best of all, I write in my head. Constantly. I'm never not writing. What do you think dreams are? Your brain writing its own stories while you are sleeping.


March 17, 2017


There’s a little game I like to play, when I’m alone or bored or tired. I listen carefully, patiently, see how many things I can hear. People humming softly as I walk by them, doors swooshing open. Music from other people’s headphones. The rhythmic tapping of a cane against the concrete. The constant noise of the city streets keep me entertained the whole walk home. There are always new sounds. Walking these streets every day I get used to the ever-present whir of cars and can drown them out to get to the intricate little noises masked to the common ear, by big obnoxious rumblings. I can also identify which car makes which sound.
 I’m always being reminded that nothing sounds the same.
I wander, caught up in the sounds, smiling at a little girl telling her mum how many handstands she had done at lunch. By the time I hear the complaining tires of the Honda Civic, it’s too late. 


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  • March 17, 2017 - 1:55am (Now Viewing)

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