A cool breeze blows to conduct. Commuters take their places. The stadium rings like a percussion rehearsal – an ensemble of scaffold and pneumatics. Machines beat steel-joists to drive the city’s drums. Down the narrow steps a winding melody and the crackle of feet. I listen to the symphony with a dry mouth. The pavement is scored with chewing gum. Dynamics are marked in dog-turd and sick. Bus engines sing harmony with the slab cutter’s scream. Sounds are wired up to the lights. Drains blow like tubas, drivers shout and personal stereos keep time. The buildings juice each sound into a rich pigment. Shop signs bow to the applause of night rain.
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