Echo things that you said
I understand that humans are a pattern-seeking race. That we will fit a pattern where none exists, sometimes. The monkey who looks at a pattern of shadows and thinks he sees a tiger is a monkey who is less likely to be surprised by a tiger who is hiding in the shadows.
And thus I understand that the frequent susurrus of voices I hear, low and at the edge of hearing, audible but not discernable, is not a hushed conversation. It's nothing more than water shifting in the pipes, air passing through the vents, or any one of a dozen possible things.
But I wish they'd either speak louder or shut the hell up because they kind of give me the creeps.
And thus I understand that the frequent susurrus of voices I hear, low and at the edge of hearing, audible but not discernable, is not a hushed conversation. It's nothing more than water shifting in the pipes, air passing through the vents, or any one of a dozen possible things.
But I wish they'd either speak louder or shut the hell up because they kind of give me the creeps.
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In a room with a fan. My brain insists that there is a radio on somewhere in the house.
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