What I hear- A portrait of East New York

As I take a walk around my neighborhood on a windy night, my ears are treated to a wide variety of sonic vibrations. There are rasping sounds of air passing through my nostrils as I breath, the burning of tobacco leaves within cigarette as I take a drag. The wind blows, rustling the leaves on the trees and producing an awkward rattling sound that ripples through the air. Leaves begin to fall; there are scraping sounds along the ground from the dead leaves that are carried along. The wind brings voices with it; young men shouting and laughing, the repetitive bouncing of a basketball. A car passes by giving off a muffled sort of sound as it the wind ripples through the air. Moments later, the blare of a car horn. The bouncing of the ball stops. Moments later there is a loud pop akin to a firework. Everything stops. The wind blasts through the street again. There are chirps coming down from the treetops. Moments later, the sound of a police siren ripples through the air. A mother's voice echoes through the night urging her son the go inside. The sounds of a basketball game ends. The night goes quiet except for the wind and chirping scattering down from the treetops.