I’m going to miss the terrace of my apartment when I leave Carcassonne tomorrow. Sitting out here listening to the chimes of nearby church bells is very pleasant indeed. I didn’t ever figure out why the bells would toll for so long and seemingly with no correspondence to the hour, but nonetheless, the sound of church bells ringing out across the town, especially at the weekend, was always charming.
From the terrace, you could sometimes hear someone practicing the piano or playing the guitar. I could catch snippets of conversations, their words spilling out of open windows like water from a saturated window-box. But on the whole, it was a quiet outdoor space where only the sound of pigeons flying low overhead would break the silence now and then.