Soundwalk

As I walk to my bus after work, I unplugged my Airpods and turned my phone to silent. This “soundwalk” was the first time in a long time that after work I allowed my ears to absorb anything besides the music I choose to feed them. Iin order to hear the noises around me, I had to focus and breathe; after years of living here, the natural vibration of the city has become silent to me. Today, however, I heard it. I heard the sounds that I conformed into silence. There is the rumble of a car muffler, a low vibration that enters my ears as quickly as it left them. Music was playing, I first heard it through its bass. A pounding that went through my ears and I felt in my teeth, it was meant to grab my attention. Well, not mine exactly, but the music was at a volume that naturally attracted attention. There was three sets of car horns, played in symphony as the frustration traveled back from the second car at the light. Heels against pavement. Multiple clicks in a fast pace, quickly getting louder as they approach behind me. I heard a collection of soft laughter, it was tender yet real. I feel reconnected with the city, comforted with the sounds of activity, relentlessness and speed. As I approach my bus stop, I heard the sound of home, the beautiful accent of a Staten Island woman, a noise only appreciated by those who reside on the island. Deep toned, lazy in her pronunciation of vowels, strong in her opinion, and vulgar in her word choice. It is a New York accent but the trained ear can hear the Staten Island in it. I feel closer to home, and strangely enough, comforted by the woman telling her friend that her boyfriend is the worst. I could not help but be reminded of the girls who gossiped over a shared cigarette in high school. Sounds of youth, sounds of the city, and sounds of home.

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