It starts with a drone. Consider the way the sun rises, the way the intensity of the light changes from soft to sharp and painful. This is the way the sound mounts, your ears instead of your eyes calmly accepting the softness, your entire insides warmed by the sound (your skin warmed by the sun). There is a progression though, in the same way that there is a progression when you walk across the street to grab the mail out of your mailbox. The softness warming your insides and filling you up slowly, but regularly (like the way the light flashes with a consistent blink)–- you realize this is the rhythm. But the rhythm dies soon and shortly after the death of the rhythm, the regularity, you begin to feel the aural equivalent of sunburn. Your body quells into itself in an attempt to cope–- but the burn hits harsher and harsher; you’re no longer warm and comfortable inside. You consider turning the radio off for once but you’re too alone, you’re too afraid to be really by yourself. The sound harshens and you collapse. You close your eyes and try to fight, but then you realize the song is over. The man’s voice is back.