The cadence was artificially piped into the atmosphere via an alarm clock radio, summer night setting, based off a recording made back in the era when recordings where made on little brown tape, and before then on vinyl frisbee in tiny little grooves, and the cadence of genuine sounds artificially delivered did not succeed in curing my insomnia, rather chopped up my thoughts into small intervals between rubbed legs and wings in a forest I might never encounter in any other way. A young woman ten years my junior, meanwhile, had an analytical trap mind and would never understand my humor.
