Counting crows

From where I'm sitting, I can see outside a bit, though no one could see in.  The curtain isn't open, but one bit of it slipped to one side in kind of a fold.

Some birds are going crazy out there.  Crows.

I read somewhere that crows are very intelligent, they can talk to each other.  If you listen, they don't all sound alike at all. Even the same bird can sound completely different, depending on the situation.  

They really do have different word-calls.

I think I could know what they were saying if I listened in just the right way, but it's kind of nice not to know.

For some reason, it used to really bother me that once I'd learned to read -- and I don't remember ever not knowing how -- I could never see words in print as just the lines and shapes they are.  They would always tell me what they were saying before I had time to think about it.  

I wanted to be able to choose to read or not to read.  But it wasn't up to me any more.

I like looking at words in a language I don't know.  They don't tell me anything.  I have to go find out about them, or ask.

At least I can keep my eyes shut.  Then all the books in the world could be around me and they wouldn't say a thing.

It must be terrible not to be able to shut things out.

I knew some people like that.

People who couldn't stop hearing.

It's terrible to hear things other people can't.  

I like listening to the crows and not knowing what they're shouting to one another.  Their voices carry.  Anyone could hear them.  Lots of people probably do right now.

I'm not any different from anyone else.