the_way_things_are cooper rasha A bedroom with no walls: open onto the jungle. sleeping in a net. 5 am the insect symphony began with a withering high pitched scream…over and over again, calling the bugs out for breakfast. They rose from the leaves and the moss. A wall of sound, the quiet life is loud. Amidst the morning racket, the struggle for survival, food, water, territory; my net is a temple, a sanctuary. Zipped in, I am part of the forest and I let the sound seep into me. Longing. Listening. Life. A moaning gong. A creepy melody from the street speakers. Morning is dawning: miso soup on the stove, watch for centipedes, sit down, eat brown rice, breathe. 130301 what's it to you? who go blather from