Wednesday, July 13, 2011


I can hear different languages spoken in the streets and still the spoken english with many kinds of accents. I hear fast or slow tongues, open vowels or not, small tune variation or huge, low and sibilant whispers or an unexpected throaty excuse-me. Maybe I listen a southern accent in a subway speech and definitely incomprehensible syllables coming from the mouth of some kid. I’m sitting in a bench in front of a deli and I hear old lady’s long chatting beside me. One lady’s talking is full of exclamations and I catch lost phrases about relationship. In the corner of the other street I hear a familiar vocabulary.

As I walk slowly in the streets capturing as much as I can with my eyes and ears, I listen monologues with or without earplugs; people walking and complaining to themselves or mad at someone who I can see. I do talk to myself in loud voice once in a while but I keep walking and suddenly I’m lost…
I have to stop and ask some of those citizens for direction to the Brooklyn subway or Washington Avenue. Then I'm surprised for hearing my own voice an accent among all those sounds. I think to myself: this is New York and I am here... I’m just one more beat in this club.

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