The sounds of the city often fade to a dull but all-consuming roar of cars, motorcycles, and other vehicles. Walking down the street, the cars are only matched by the roar of wind in my ears. The purr of engines waiting to accelerate becomes a keynote, a background sound that never leaves. It’s early morning and I hear the sounds of metal on metal from the various construction sites littered throughout the city. Quieter, but no less all-consuming, is the sound of footsteps on cement, footsteps on metal grates that pepper the city streets. A louder sound--that of wheels on the pavement-- occasionally breaks through. A car door opening there, a snatch of conversation here. Of course the ever-present beeps and whirs of cellphones. A delivery man speeds down the street on his bike, speaking rapid Spanish. In Central Park I hear the crunching of leaves underfoot, hear the wind rustle the trees and the rushing water of public fountains. It is peaceful. A bird flits here and there, announcing it’s small presence. My train of thought is interrupted by a loud, sudden honk, a sound signal alerting me to traffic. If I listen closely, I can hear the hum of boilers and plumbing and other strange noises from deep beneath buildings, as though the city itself is breathing. A dog’s leash jingles pleasantly; another sound signal. Finally I hear foreign music blaring from a food truck selling Mediterranean food, and I know I have arrived at school.
Chana Radensky's blog for FILMP160
