It's hard to see them, but look as closely as you can into that little corner.
It is summer and the babies have hatched. As they have for the last thirty-six years, maybe even before, like when Bernard Hermann was growing up here dreaming music that could fill a movie screen or even when Sidor Belarsky lived here, his arias soaring up to the high ceilings, like the young sax player who now lives on the 2nd Floor and practices to open windows.
In between the music that fills the building now, it's the cooing and chirping I listen for, especially in summer.
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