Voices coming out of the dark from a distance. Something I rarely hear in this quiet place. Drunken revelers? Early risers? Inept burglers? Hell if I know. I catch only a few words. Not enough to make any sense of what they are saying. For some reason, this conversation makes me feel very sad. I feel something akin to nostalgia. Perhaps something in the back of my mind, a vague memory of childhood, of things going on in the world around me, things in which I had no part. Other lives make me lonely, sometimes.