Bang Bang

"...i was five and he was six we rode on horses made of sticks," was the soft tune I sang as I drifted down the curvy cement on this orange wednesday. Since I've been here, I've realized that the scattering of people on a walk to class is better with a soundtrack. Jamming white plugs in my ears or just releasing my own melody makes the girls and boys that pass own an individual story. On the other hand, silence has its equally credited job of unravelling my thoughts and proposing plans of action. Balance in sound is vital to my sanity.