The air is alive with the sound of the cicadas, the drone of a machine steady in the background. The air is cut sharp by the chirp of birds. I really must read for my class tomorrow, but I have still yet to receive my books. I also have to search diligently for graduate school programs that interest me. An airplane thunders overhead, joining the chorus of the cicadas and the machine. I heard a rustling as the wind caresses the leaves in the treetops, seconds later, I feel the wind upon my skin. I must buy the GRE study materials. I need to cal Dave back. And Joe. The sound of crickets and grasshoppers sporadically joins the chorus. My skin is a pincushion, a constant need to itch. A buzzing by my ear as an insect flys by. The cicadas create a symphony, starting softly on the right, they crescendo and move to the left, and slowly they decrescendo and go quiet. Although, not quite quiet, for the leaves still rustle in the wind, and the machines steady drone continues. I'm hungry and in dire need of a nap.