Blending eras, blending climates, blending paces, blending cultures: The maze that is the NYC subway. What sound remained when the train left
sound
Meanwhile, somewhere in the DR the heat has you lulled to a gear below your usual pace, you sit below the shade of a large tree. This is what it sounds like
Silence is the void that connects you to the time these giants were just infants. You are tiny among eternal giants, the sequoias of the redwood forests.
In the wake of Charlie Hebdo, the least we can do to defend free speech is to listen to the voices of those longing for freedom, jailed for speaking them.
Gliding on glassy waters, early morning sunlight peering through the tangles of mangrove mystery, just you and the wildlife. Press play. :)
The December sunshine warming up your skin, the chitter-chatter of the ecstatic birds, but wait, what’s that sound in the background?!
The warm glow of the candles, the warm summer breeze on your skin, the warm notes of jazz in the air, the sea listening intently.