Constant sounds of squeaking doors, the pressed and depressed handlebars creeking like a rusty seesaw. Footsteps, beating in various tempos, some slow, some in a speeding allegro. The helicopter covers the ambient city sounds with its tremolo propellers. On my right a phone plays some prog rock, laughter, and the wind whispers into my ears like the soft petting of beach waves in a sandy bay. The young voices of New York Hunter students crescendo and decrescendo as they pass in front and behind me. Coughing and whistling, someone says "wait, so he's keeping that with his left hand while soloing!" A truck slowly accelerates with a snarl like a snore, two taxi beeps, and a constant background of idling vehicles. A plane flies overhead, sounding like a jug that is filling up to the brim with a liquid, the pitch getting higher and higher. Someone says "bagels," and the flying paper bag and cup lids scraping against the concrete create a high pitched sanding like quality. The voices, steps and vehicles create a symphony with expositions, developments and variations. The sounds of plastic, rubber, paper, metal, cloth, concrete, air, all clashing against each other create this city soundscape. The drastic contrasting layers of the low exhaust and the screeching brakes of the crawling bus are covered by far off firetruck's whaling siren. As if complaining and sighing from heaviness, a loose concrete step sobs as it rocks an inch up and down as it is trodden on. A small dog barks, and someone's headphones are amplifying everything in a ten foot radius. More laughing and coughing, more vehicles. A smiling girl in a black leather jacket on the phone says "such a bad ass! Ok, talk to you later bye!"
