bay ridge, brooklyn, 3am. We both were awakened by the insistent call. It went on for awhile, and was so absurd in it’s repetition that I got up and grabbed my iPhone to start recording it.

It was amazing how perfect the rhythm and timing was – like a stuck record player – over and over and over and over until just as mysteriously as it began, it suddenly stopped. The night birds of Brooklyn are becoming a dying breed, at least in our neighborhood, and we were lucky to hear this one’s song.

Still, I’m pretty tired today.