Sounds i love
the sound of my mother tongue. the sounds of trees. galloping horses. the sound of percolating coffee, the sound of carbinated water. the sound of a well-maintained motorcycle, and sounds that ratchets make. or the way in which only david bowie can pronounce: “jasmine” every sound that keith jarrett has ever spilt into this world. the turning of pages in old hardbound books. the lack of sound, the spaces in between as these to me constitute the essence of breakbeat, of poetry, of philosophy… and, at times, i also like the sound of my memory
