The sounds of your “next meal” close by - chickens, goats, pigs. People were up-close-and-personal with their food back then. They may have even been housemates!
I absolutely love your post. For me, tiny birds with their tiny chirping song and sunlight. At night, the twinkle of stars or Christmas lights that are still up way after December accompanied by a distant wind chime.
The sounds of my flat-mates grunting and painting hunting epics on the wall of our cave almost certainly dulls the taste of my rare woolly mammoth steak. The sound of crackling campfire, however, compensates slightly. Ultimately, though, I don't notice much, for I taste mostly the fact that I'm alive -- for at least another night.
Thanks for this! I never really gave noise a thought which in itself is lamebrain brain, given that real eating requires all your senses. You made me remember how a loud jostling restaurant either lends excitement to the meal or grates like nails on a chalkboard depending on my mood or who I'm with (or alone).
The sounds of your “next meal” close by - chickens, goats, pigs. People were up-close-and-personal with their food back then. They may have even been housemates!
I absolutely love your post. For me, tiny birds with their tiny chirping song and sunlight. At night, the twinkle of stars or Christmas lights that are still up way after December accompanied by a distant wind chime.
The sounds of my flat-mates grunting and painting hunting epics on the wall of our cave almost certainly dulls the taste of my rare woolly mammoth steak. The sound of crackling campfire, however, compensates slightly. Ultimately, though, I don't notice much, for I taste mostly the fact that I'm alive -- for at least another night.
Thanks for this! I never really gave noise a thought which in itself is lamebrain brain, given that real eating requires all your senses. You made me remember how a loud jostling restaurant either lends excitement to the meal or grates like nails on a chalkboard depending on my mood or who I'm with (or alone).