Apartment living is just so strange. Last Sunday I hear a couple arguing and screaming their lungs out but I don't really know where it was coming from or which floor for that matter. And then just now I heard a mother beating the life out of her son for something he has done, and at the same time someone upstairs is running around, dribbling a ball maybe and shifting furniture and dropping stuff all over the floor.
This is like the basis for a new story, a little like Hitchcock's Rear Window, the only difference is the witness doesn't see anything. Hey, it'd be cool if the protagonist was blind then it'll be like Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn. Hmm ... needs some brain wrecking.
Well, whatever the plot, as a dreamer, sounds better than a writer, there must be a story somewhere in there don't you think?