I make charts of airplanes going overhead. They come over at the same time each day. I have them timed. Say that I know that one of them is going to pass over at 11.15 a.m. Around eleven ten, I start listening for the sound of the motor. I try to hear the first sound. Sometimes I imagine I hear it and sometimes I'm not sure and then I begin to hear it, 'way off, for sure. And the sound gets stronger. Then at 11.15 a.m. it passes overhead and the sound is as loud as it's going to get.
You do that every day?
Not when I'm here.
In Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski p.147
