From the day
Perspective: The Teenager · Sound
The street corner is a absolute riot of clanging trolley bells and the sharp, rhythmic hiss of steam, but I can still hear that dreamy melody of *I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles* drifting out from the neighbor's open window. It’s a swell enough tune, I suppose, though after hearing it for the hundredth time today, the sweetness feels a bit over the top for a guy just trying to dodge the mud and the motorcars. The crisp winter air smells of coal smoke and fresh-baked bread, a sharp contrast to the grim talk of famine-stricken Germans in the morning papers. I just pull my cap low against the wind and keep walking, letting the tinny echoes of the phonograph fade into the roar of the city.