 One morning at the beginning of November, I awake before my brother and try to imagine another amazing composition, putting together a single symphony for each passing hour, with instrumentalists playing different kinds of clocks, watches, cuckoo clocks, grandfather clocks, ending with all their alarms clanging at the same time. I lie there and listen to my ears ring, and when my brother's calculator wristwatch rings out, I know it's time to get up.