Enjoying the sun’s rays and nature’s varied sounds and tranquil beauty; walking long distances and falling asleep when you’re tired without encountering another living soul: this used to be my definition of a good day. Now a good day is when the neighbours turn off their radio for a couple hours and no one is screaming. It could be a domestic disturbance, a crazy person losing their shit, a crying baby, a badly raised little girl. When you’re really lucky, maybe all that at once.

I’ve got a long list of sounds that drive me nuts. Basically a carbon copy of the list of human suffering. These sounds make me feel like I’m being forced to sleep on a mattress stuffed with wasps whose perpetual buzzing will prevent me from sleeping until the end of time. Car horns. Sunday guitarists practising with their windows open. Dogs locked up and barking until their vocal cords tear. Parrots nervously caw-caw-cawing in their cages. All those motors that keep our world turning: cars, lawn mowers, air conditioners, circular saws, drills, sanders, mixers, juicers, coffee machines. Every time I find an empty box that once housed one of those espresso pod machines, I take down the address. I’m promising myself a major play one day, to cull each and every person who thinks it’s okay to throw out their little metal and plastic pods after every cup of coffee, incapable of seeing how that massive pile of waste will impact the earth’s already strained resources.