Say, how often a middle class family living in a nice neighborhood
has to clean their drains, gutters, downspouts, air ducts,
fiber-optic and copper cables, sump pits, fireplaces, etcetera?
What can they discover in the process if they do it on, say, a Thursday in the afternoon,
when a five-legged sun is sound asleep behind the clouds?
I, for instance, would certainly pick up a violin because I hate the sound of it.
That violin would be very much alive but sick to the core as any dead tree in the vicinity,
And the void inside it would make noises like a changeling that hadn’t got a piece of silence.

{from the comments on tourists vs. travelers}