“That?' asked the voice on the phone. 'Those are the voices of twelve thousand killed in a typhoon, seven thousand killed by hurricane, three thousand buried by a cyclone. Am I boring you? That's what the wind is. It's a lot of people dead. The wind killed them, took their minds to give itself intelligence. It took all their voices and made them into one voice. All those millions of people killed in the past ten thousand years, tortured and run from continent to continent on the backs and in the bellies on monsoons and whirlwinds. Oh Christ, what a poem you could write about it!”