He says: "If you rest with air moving in your ears, the voices that you can't escape are quietened, at least. All the words other people speak just by being alive stop being your problem." He strikes a tuning fork on his own head and listens to it, then turns on two fans on opposite sides of him.
He rests his head back on the wall and hums. The sun dips behind a cloud. He stops humming and his breathing becomes more regular.
The air from the fans catches his hair and throws it up into deltas and sigmas in the air. My uncle sleeps, untroubled by the unquiet whispers coming out of the walls.