It wasn’t the traffic noise that broke me. It was the sparrows.
London, where I live, has been sweltering under a string of heat waves. The days are painful enough, but eighty-degree nights in a country without much air conditioning are miserable. If I fling open every window, my bedroom will eventually cool down, but that fragile peace ends around 4:30 a.m. when my winged neighbors begin to greet the day. Chirp. Chirp. Chriiiiiiirp.
