The Deepest of




  • We stopped, drank some water, nibbled on sweet tempura leaves, and soon, without talking, fell into the deepest of reveries, immersed in sound, the sound of cicadas, surrounded by cicadas, a summer symphony of cicadas. A man sat at the next bench and removed his shoes. He rested his feet on the fence and closed his eyes. And, as we sank deeper into sound, the wall of cicadas ebbed and flowed, its rhythms changed, its notes found a clarity—or, rather, we found the clarity in them—virtuoso musicians took their solos (I don’t know how else to describe it), a monkey shrieked, a child ran laughing behind us, and the pulsating thickness of melody and tone weaved itself around the gurgling of the stream passing over the rocks below. “Have you got your recorder?” Sharon whispered, and I found the digital recorder I use for interviews and placed it upright on the fence. And now we have that sound to play whenever we need to be back in that place, with those trees, that river, those animals. A soundscape of Mino-o Park, Osaka Prefecture, Japan, August 1st 2005, in the heat of the early afternoon...


  • Listen audio to the cicadas of Mino-o Park


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