If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things

If you listen, you can hear it

The city, it sings

If you stands quietly, at the foot of a garden, in the middle of a street, on the roof a house

It's clearest at night, when the sounds cuts more sharply across the surface of things, when the song reaches out to a place inside you

It's a wordless song, for the most, but it's a song all the same, and nobody hearing it could doubt what it sings

And the song sings the loudest when you pick out each note

Taken from: If Nobody Speaks of Remarkable Things, by Jon McGregor