It was best to open up the side cavities

Glosses: Clairaudient sinuses

Today we are opening a small branch of the "Kerbstone Protocols", which is otherwise left without exception to the daily newspaper, this glossy sidewalk where editors and readers can journalistically cast off their urban experiences and everyday anger. Here, too, a complaint is to be brought about - not only urban, but particularly conspicuous - facts. About the fact that apartments are generally so "noisy". In other words: You hear too much. Especially from above. I hardly know anyone who - if they are not in the fortunate position of living on a top floor - cannot or must not hear steps, voices and many other sounds. And by no means only in new buildings, which are notorious for their "paper walls" and "cardboard ceilings". Stylish acoustic permeability is also ensured in old buildings. And even more so in hotels where the noises from several floors often turn into true cacophonies.

I recently stayed in a five-star hotel which, thanks to the hygienic stone and tile floors, provided a particularly hearing and tactile surround experience. Just moving a wooden chair caused a small earthquake for the "lodger". A hearty step towards the toilet - a herd of buffalo started to trot. Pressing the flush - tropical rain came down. Sneeze out loud once - a hurricane was on the horizon. It was a good preparation for Roland Emmerich's disaster film "The Day After Tomorrow".

It's strange that nowadays you can use communication technology to ensure that people at the other end of the world can be heard as if they were standing next to you, but it seems impossible not to hear someone in the room next to you or above. This is where technological civilization literally reaches its limits. And you usually quickly reach your own limits when you are exposed to constant neighbors' rumors. The varnish of civilization is quickly removed, as every district judge knows from countless cases.

An atavistic system seems to be activated, a biological territorial thinking, that neighbors so often - and so often blindly - get into arguments. Perhaps we are so overly sensitive (and aggressive) to noises from the "sinus" because deep in our evolutionary heritage is the fear of the "dinofelis". It was that man-eating beast, a kind of saber-toothed tiger, to which primitive people in the savannahs were once defenseless.

Only the invention of fire and collective defense strategies helped to put an end to this horror, from which Bruce Chatwin, in his wonderful book "Traumpfade", developed a highly stimulating speculation about the continued effect of enemy images in today's societies. The English writer and traveler probably already knew why he chose a nomadic life. Without neighbors.