On the morning of the Monday 25th June just gone, I was walking along the beach of Charlestown, Cornwall. Working along the small bank made by the tide heaping up the washed and rubbed stones of pebbles and sand. As I went further away from the harbour wall, the sounds changed. Along side the waves came the sounds of birds from the cliff. The wave sound became softer, the displaced pebbles from my footsteps more pronounced. I picked up two flat pieces of clay and struck them together but you couldn’t hear them at all.


The following morning, back at home in Leicester, I was hanging out the washing, 0645, in the morning sun. Garden birds, the hum of traffic from the motorway carried on the faint breeze, me dropping clothes pegs. A different sound all around but just as vivid as the morning before.

Later that evening, I sat in a room rubbing two stones that I’d collected on the beach that previous morning together and listened to how the sound moved around the room. Which obviously lead me to Akio Suzuki.

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