The feeling you get when you see something, someone, you’ve been waiting for a long time walking towards you. Mix that with the touch of ice beneath your palms - comforting, but also a bit painful after a while. Imagine that person you’ve been waiting for leaves, walks away. The feeling you’re left with, mixed with the ice, is the sound of the birds chirping in the trees. You know how the forests twinkle before sunset, spraying the sunlight throughout peaked pines and crackled rocks? The birdsong is that, too; the call of a mourning dove is the tear of a grieving widow, left alone after years of love. These images, these feelings - these make the sound of the birds chirping in the city. A bittersweet pang of something natural, leaving you wanting more before it vanishes.