Day 19: The cicadas' thrum lulls me into afternoon.
Day 20: Lawnmowers whine, incessant bee-buzz of summer shearing.
Day 21: An ice cream truck circles several streets over, a lonely calliope of sound.
Day 22: Ocean waves crash on wet sand, a dull roar; louder still, the boom of thunder.
Day 23: The thwup-thwup of thousands of tires traveling homeward over the bay Bridge.
Day 24: Pop! Fizz! Soda bubbles tickle my nose, rock my mouth with commotion.
Day 25: Quiet fills Sunday morning streets, everybody everywhere but here.