Saturday, March 10, 2018 5:14 PM

As I walk farther from my building, the looping echo of a bird call slips out of sync. It isn't one bird but two, going through a Steve Reich phase. A stream of high-pitched babble interrupts them. Turning the corner, I see a woman bouncing a baby in her arms. "Who's speaking gibberish?" she murmurs. "Who? Mama's speaking gibberish!" At a crosswalk, I wait for the sound of the traffic lights. Most click slowly, sharing a hocketed rhythm. When the box to my right clicks more quickly, about seven ticks to each cycle of the others, it's time to cross.