Every day, my next-door neighbors seemed to party. I was not even invited. Amazing sound came from the music through the thick concrete walls. It was too much for me to handle, with its pleasing beat, heavy bass, and laughter. So I got up my courage and knocked on their door, armed with a good bottle of wine; the end of the road. They smiled broadly as the door opened and assured me that I was most welcome. I was invited in and observed that everyone was seated around the television. In fact, there are only a few people. Singing and clapping along with the film Jungle Book, we watched together. Jungle Book did not appeal to me. Oh, my. The night was very long.
After trying for hours to smile, my face hurt. After hours of forcing myself to clap, my arms hurt. Despite not knowing the songs’ words, my voice was the only thing that remained intact.