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Two things I didn't expect to hear from a cracked-open window on the twelfth story of an old, brick office building on Broadway, just below Astor Place, on the island of Manhattan, at 10:23 p.m. on a Wednesday night.
One:
Wind chimes on someone's balcony--lonely sounding and somehow gorgeous.
Two:
A hound dog barking on the street below, his big voice bouncing up from building to building. He clearly got his point across.
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