And then a train went by, off in the distance, the whistle sounding like a breathy wooden flute, and then again with a lower note from a different Doppler shift. A plane overhead put in a harmonious low organ note, adding up to a bit of slightly mournful melody, my imagination filling in and following it. A worker outside bumped a bucket of spackling compound, sounding like the beginning of a gentle drum rhythm to layer on top of the melody. It all had a sort of echoes-of-nature feel to it, sort of like some of the Myst soundtrack. And it was exactly what I wanted to listen to.
But then the train was gone on its way, no longer a wooden flute; the plane on its way, no longer a pipe organ, and the spackling compound bucket no longer a goatskin drum, and the music no longer ever existed at all.
And I don't think I really have anything at all like it, either.