City Circles by subespai

Scene. A nondescript hum smothers the echoes of a distant playground. The eeriness intensifies as the afternoon loses the daily battle against the evening soundscape. "Where is this?". The sonic familiarity puts the name of a place on the tip of the tongue right as the movement changes, or does it? The hum left unannounced, that's a fact; now there's something else filling the space, something deeper, more spiritual even. Repetition gives way to flow; quietness prevails, for a while at least. Feedback turns into flares as the night falls. "Is this still the West?". Continental lines may or may not have been crossed, the only way to find out is to wander further, facing novelty until everything becomes known again. A faint sadness lingers in the air. End of scene.

Found sound. Repetition. Volume.

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