Sound Walk

Central Park at midnight is a one of those times and places that has long since transcended the breadth of local lore and entered into the annals of myth. If the stories are to be believed, wandering after dark in New York's most famous strip of nature is something akin to getting lost in the woodlands of a Brother's Grimm tale. Apparently a mecca for all manner of devious folk, rapists, muggers, and worse are sure to be seen darting from tree to tree and slithering between well manicured paths, waiting only for the chance to strike... Despite, though, it's fearsome reputation what we first encountered was an awful amount of silence. Entering the park just south of the Large Reservoir near it's Northern end, we made our way towards the still black water and found the noise of the city fading. Standing on the joggers path that encircles the reservoir, the normal sustained hum of city life could barely be made out - no honking taxis, no clattering construction workers in the middle of the night, no traffic rushing past. At first, perhaps thanks to its suddenness after our trek towards the park itself, the silence seemed impenetrable. Dominant. Unallowing for experience or sense other than itself. But soon that too faded, and just as the city's mechanical whirrings and buzzings had been swallowed up by the park, so too was the park's silence swallowed by a set of much kinder sounds. Though lacking in sound signals, our post on the bank of the reservoir became host to all manner of keynotes, from the gentle slosh of the water's surface to the buzzing of insects in the trees around it. As we moved further south, we found this trend continued - the stops and starts of city noise were replaced by a much more consistent texture, a coordination of softer and duller sounds than the city would be caught dead producing. A chorus of Lo-Fi Indie Singers to the city's pack of competing battle rappers. The rustle of tree branches in the breeze hummed near continuously - soft, but ever present. In time we found that the noises of the park were much more aware of our presence - treading off the path often resulted in a scramble of padded feet on dirt, or a hastily snapping branch as the park's animal residents fled. A far cry from the city's constant audial assault, which seems almost to deny you exist at all...