sounds from the second floor

My room is on the second floor of the hotel I’ve been living in for almost six years. I often get up in the middle of the night (it’s 3:30 right now) to sit on my balcony, drink coffee, think, and listen. Typical sounds one might hear from my perch at this time: water cascading over the edge of the poolside below, a symphony of frogs and crickets just beyond the thicket of banana trees across the road, on certain days of the month, ritual chanting rises from temples on the horizon, and on this special morning, two drunk guys, each playing reels at full volume, conversing over the discordant noise as it ricochets through the courtyard.

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