Night Songs

Sometimes late in the evening I hear a man singing outside my window in Italian, a tenor. It’s eerie and beautiful. It reminds me of Turkey, where laborers might sing in public. Somehow expressions of male vulnerability and creativity are almost lost in American, or at least SoCal, culture.
But lest I make Turkey sound too romantic, I also used to hear celebratory gunfire in our neighborhood at night. That kind of emotional expression I can definitely do without.