The song sparrows made a home outside my window long before I arrived. When I moved into my apartment in February 2020, I discovered their nest outside my south-facing bedroom window. The café below me has two bright blue awnings that slowly roll out each morning, and the collection of twigs sat right at the top, across from an adjacent tree branch. Before opening, I could hear the café owner sweeping the sidewalk, paired with the whistling birds outside. Sometimes they’d get so loud it seemed unbearable, but I learned over time to tune out the noise. One night, a friend stopped by to watch a documentary with me, and in the middle of the show he paused it and said, “What is it? 6am or something?” and I suddenly recognized their scream-singing voices, communicating with each other about something that couldn’t wait until morning.
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