As i sit here alone, but not without some occupancy of loneliness, i read my book on the floor underneath the cool breeze of my window. As my Venetian blinds gently sway and thunk against the glass i can faintly hear violins; Ode to Joy, in fact. I stand in the opening of my window to look down the hill to the apartment below, and in the off-center of the parking-lot stands two people rhythmically undulating with the notes they were creating. They play in the dark facing each other producing soothing vibrations for sometime. When the song ended i clapped; they didn't hear me. Which is just as well, who knows why they would play this late, those two song birds of the night.