At first glance, it looks like any urban park in any large metropolitan. But after twenty steps you begin to notice tiny details.
The traffic noise drops off at one point as if a curtain had suddenly been drawn behind you. The crunch of your shoes begin to rattle around in your head as you are suddenly very self conscious of the sounds that you are bringing into this space.
At regular intervals, you begin to count the tiny delicately formed wooden bird boxes affixed to trees. Each with its own unique number.
The well cared for path you have been ambling down is at various points interrupted by the long expanse of a tree jutting out of the ground beneath. You assume that the tree came first, the path second.
Finally, the birdsong you counted as one becomes twenty, and you are surprised by how well you can discern the differences.
After 15 minutes, you are blanketed in by the hidden sounds of the park and you are no longer in the heart of a big city. You are on the path before you. The sounds of the birds and tiny animals your guide.
Suddenly a flash of red blurs past your feet and you turn your head just in time to see the outline of a fox.
Time to pull out the earbuds. And listen.
An Ode to a Shoe.
The Permanence of Impermanence
Friendship is not developed though time, rather moments of time.
Only Bumping Boats
German lessons at the Jewish Museum
6/7. The City of the Kaiser Chiefs. The architecture and history is often overshadowed by the Nazis and the East/West Cold war era...
A Candle for Your Thoughts