Soundwalk

Walking down Broadway on 145th street, the first sounds that pierce my eardrums are that of a bus stopping and unloading passengers. I hear the clutter of people stepping off. It is the late afternoon, many people have gotten off of work and school. I hear mini conversations as I breeze by people. The sound marks are a mixture of the English and Spanish language every block I walk. I’m in Hamilton Heights, right between Harlem and Washington Heights, which is heavily populated with people of Latin descent. This lets me know I’m in my neighborhood. It is more chilly than usual. I hear the leaves in the trees crinkle and the branches shake. As I cross streets, the light turns yellow. The sudden uproar of car engines start as the light turns green. Screeching tires and pressed cement. The chitter chatter of Con Edison workers as they work on the side of the street folds into unexpected vibrations felt and heard by their truck. The more steps I take, the barks of a dog become louder. There goes a dog tied outside the supermarket waiting for its owner. The automatic doors slide open and close, as people enter and leave. Along with this goes the expected wing flaps and coos of pigeons scattered all around. I pass by the popular outside bar, there’s tons of chatter, the sounds of forks and plates clacking with the scraping of chairs against the cement. More buses unloading passengers come through, this time follows the beeping pattern as a passenger with a wheelchair is let off. Walking further and further, the frosty winds grow stronger and they wrap around my ears like muffs. These variations of sounds follow me all the way home.