If music is indeed a world of its own, how do we imagine its weather, temperature, scale and, soil? How do we imagine the ecosystem of its inhabitants and the way that language and order intersect within it? When an incident is obscure to us, can we learn more about it by searching for clues in every corner of its background and the world surrounding it?
In an aging space covered in dust, shards of glass lay scattered throughout. Pearly dust sat on dimly lit, sparse furniture, suggesting the place was left uninhabited for a long while. Occasional gusts of wind could be heard, but no outside drafts reach the skin. You could hear a swarming, growling sound as you stood in it. The surrounding nature was indistinct. Whether it was a place with lots of water flowing nearby, or a place where trees sway in the wind, or a place where the ruins of buildings lay abandoned was unknown. Though unsure whether it is day or night, not knowing if it is a room or a garage, a time-lapse shows us that its purpose and environment have changed significantly along with the passage of time.
As we face all kinds of weather, time filled with both dirty and fine matter flows elongated. It seems like there was a thundering noise at some point, but the sound itself wasn’t present. Like a scream contained in a speech bubble, the drone sound sank into the background, only evidencing the disappeared noise. Any kind of story or narrative for a sound is already obsolete when only traces of the rhythm loosely linger. Every kind of voice and living sound become inaudible, as everything melds into a single scenery. Once there was a song, but now it’s long gone—as though the glistening sounds allude to the time when this story takes place.
