The orchestra of sound envelopes the summertime air, not unlike The 40 Part Motet.
As a child, I believed that the cathodic song of the cicada was the heat singeing the electrical lines. I thought it was a testament to the temperature: the sun was so hot that even electricity was suffering. It wasn’t until I was much older that I learned the shrill cry was originating from cicadas — and the meaning of the sound changed.
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