The sun’s blue fingers seek their way into the night sky. A cardinal sings to wake the imaginary dog sleeping at my feet, and he wakes me. It’s Sunday morning. Feist Dog says I have to work. They say that if you can hear a cardinal’s song, it means somebody loves you. This cheerful fellow telegraphs his happy tune from the eve above my bedroom window nearly every day. Wearing his vermillion jacket, he earnestly sings for a drab girlfriend who has yet to appear. There are lots of trees in Woodland Hills. I suspect she’ll find him one day.
Fascinating delve into science fiction and gender. Boyd, is this your voice?
no I use an AI program for it. They have something like 200 voices. I'm a bit facinated with my new toy. https://elevenlabs.io/
I'll check it out. I love the results.