29 July 2012

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Now til October 10th is the best time to visit. I wish you would. After that the weather will probably become miserable and I'll think we should walk places so you can see the town but it's hard to look around you when you're shivering. 


But now, the evenings are lovely, they're made for laying in the grass and watching the moon travel across the sky. 


We can sit outside the Catholic church and listen to The Lovin' Spoonful's "Summer in the City" as the bell chimes the hour. It's a magical experience because that bell is in perfect harmony with the keyboard in that song.


It's funny how I go long periods of time forgetting about the hours being tolled. I love those sounds, those atmospheric sounds. In Provo on some mornings around 7 or 8 o'clock I could hear a factory whistle. That's the kind of sound that has a story and I always meant to find out the story of that whistle but I never did. One morning I rode my bike to a park in order to begin sectioning off the city, figuring out what parts could hear it, narrow down where it could be coming from. I didn't hear the whistle that morning but I did surreptitiously record some white-haired men meeting for a morning of tennis.


There's something about having only the audio of things. A car honking in the background or the pounding of a goldsmith's hammer can be so evocative. Without the given visual your brain is wrapped up in imagining the world filled with sounds as personal and intimate as a voice. 



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