episodes

i sing to the beat of a brisk winter walk with ‘electroacoustic’ cars passing by

winter leaves, distant chimes, cold/dry

an acoustic shadow, flesh on wood : metaphor for the cycles of life

while searching for a quiet cafe to reflect outwards I discovered this sweet rumble and crispy sound bites

everyday we pass through doors and notice the spaces in between

a cross-country skier glides over snow and listens to the trail

as i sit i hear a thin tick talk to me about time

ah, let us pay attention for a minute or two to the spinning fidget : red, yellow and blue

there are persistent rumours about the sound that bath water makes while draining