The Noise & The Voice
A cacophony of sounds — car engines and horns, an ambulance siren, birds, human voices, an airplane overhead, a dog barking; more.
All he hears is the voice of a man, dead some twenty years but still singing, traveling along the wires up to his ears as he walks along the busy Manhattan street.
Looking down at the screen of the cell phone he sees a painting of a man, wearing a dark grey hat with a wide striped band and a broad smile, teeth very white, on a purple background.
There are people who earn their entire livelihoods in front of a microphone, he thinks; just their voice and music. Hairy and smooth men, fat and skinny women, and certainly impassioned and angry young people. All colors and timbres.
Sounds emerge from their mouths, they shape the tones, and people all around the planet listen attentively. In rooms and large halls, even sports arenas. From needles riding in etched vinyl, magnetic information on tape, to various data decoders.
Some kind of Magic happens between the singer and the listener and no surprise their tones are adored, their personas often idolised.
He wants to hear it again, presses replay, and floods the busy street before his eyes with the sound of a skating rink organ, then the Voice: That’s life / that’s what all the people say.
Fourth of thirty-one stories — 500 words or less, written one-per-day during December 2018 — The Hunt & Peck Parables PatchWord Quilt™©.
© AleXander Hirka 2019. All Rights Reserved.