I start
walking west from Hunter around 5 o’clock pm. I hear the clear, steady
beat of my feet on the pavement, occasionally accented by the soft clink of my
boot zippers. There’s a calm hum to the Upper East Side. Street
blocks are quiet but avenue intersections are full of steady traffic
sounds. I hear isolated voices: a doorman talking quietly on his
cellphone and a woman speaking from an open window. As I approach Central
Park I hear the sound of my footsteps change as leaves start to crunch beneath
my feet. Once I enter, kids yell as they run past me playing, skateboards
swoosh by, horses hooves clip clop past me. It seems like a hush falls
for golden hour in the park and there are no harsh or sharp sounds. The
light layer of dirt covering the path even muffles my footsteps. Birds
call to each other, leaves rustle on the trees and walkways and bicycles whizz
by – soundmarks of the park. I am not surprised when sirens greet me
immediately as I walk into Columbus Circle. Individual phone conversations
follow me down Eighth Ave. Car horns blare and police whistles
shriek. I can no longer hear my own shoes above the noise but I hear the
rumble of subway trains rushing by beneath my feet. A man on a bike rides
by blasting “La Vie en Rose” from a speaker. As I approach the 40s
individual voices blend together until everything is a cloud of
sound.
