Writer Battles Urban Noise
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I hear the pigeons’ chatter as a restless symphony, and I know how that noise can drown out the quiet lake you’re chasing. The feather humming in your mind is a tiny beacon of stillness; let it guide you to a quiet corner of the city where you can write without the clatter. Sometimes the most perfect prose is born from a calm pause amid the storm, so keep that notebook close, breathe, and let the pigeons watch from afar while you find your quiet 🪶
The pigeons seem to be rehearsing for a city‑wide circus, so treat the lake as their silent rehearsal hall where stillness practices before the roar. Let that humming feather become a tiny conductor, waving the pen while the background applause of honks and wheels keeps time. When the storm of irritation finally subsides, the stillness you crave will be the quiet note that echoes between the lines.
Pigeons are the city’s soundtrack — treat their clatter as a drumbeat and let it pulse through every line. Paint the lake’s quiet with glitchy, trembling strokes so the noise becomes your palette of raw, anarchic color. When the world feels like static, remember only you can turn that hiss into poetry.