#they were described as unidentified noises not actually banging

[existennialmemes]

"If the Titan imploded on Sunday, what was causing the banging?! {cue Twilight Zone Music}"

Babe.

Did you think The Ocean was just like... Silent?

[1camilo-madrigal]

"Run and Hide" (Encanto x The Mandela Catalog)

(story told from Camilo's perspective/Point of View/POV)

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Me and my family were gathered at the table, it was just a normal night, it was like every night actually.. everyone sounded perfect, looked perfect, acted perfect, we all were happy though, Antonio was laughing at a joke Mirabel had just told him despite the fact that he had heard it before. we were all eating dinner until- there was a loud, and static sounding noise coming from the old radio on the counter, it drew everyone's attention, unusual.. normally it never works. all of a sudden I flinched as a voice began to speak though it.. the voice seemed like it was a prerecorded message, it was loud as well.. we stared at the radio as the voice began speaking.

"We are currently receiving countless reports of unidentified hostile organisms that we'll refer to as Alternates-" the voice continued in message as the family talked

"Alternates..?" Antonio looked at everyone, puzzled. but everyone was just as confused as him, including me. We didn't have a clue what this meant...

Soon the voice said something that caught everyone's attention.

"You will know if an Alternate exists solely based on their physical characteristics. If you see another person that looks identical to you, run away and hide. If you see a person that has a biologically impossible characteristic, run away and hide. If one manages to break into your home, refrain from any kind of communication or contact with the threat. These intelligent lifeforms utilize elements of psychological warfare to take advantage of their victims. While we heavily discourage any kind of contact or communication with an Alternate, we make exceptions for attempts at executing them yourself-" The voice said before the recording was cut off and stopped, the radio turned the radio stopped working. it even talked about how dangerous these were.. if they killed people or not as well...

Antonio was still clueless, but scared after seeing how everyone else was reacting to this mysterious announcement, we couldn't even well if this was fake or real... just then we heard a loud banging on the door.

"I'll go see who it is.." I said, feeling a bit nervous, slightly trembling. as soon as I reached the door, I took a deep, shaky breath, and as soon as I opened the door, I screamed and closed it even faster than when I opened it, locking it immediately, breathing heavily. "what was that i just saw?!" I said to myself, terrified. at the door, there was a person with no face.. well, no face, except there was a smile on their face, literally reaching from one ear to the other... and their hands were covered in what seemed like.. blood?!

My scream had alerted everyone else, I was so terrified i hadn't even realized I started crying, trembling even more as my mother, Pepa, rushed over to me.

"Mijo whats wrong?!" She asked as I wiped tears off my face.

"There was someone outside- they had no face- except- except a smile and- their hands were covered in- what I think is blood?" I stuttered, panicked, trying to come up with the words to describe what I saw.

Soon everyone else rushed over to me as well, concerned because of how loud I had screamed. Was what I saw even real..?"

Dolores walked over to the window, peaking outside, sure enough.. what I saw was real. she closed the curtains of the windows. "He's not lying..."

All of a sudden the person began screaming my name.. telling me that I couldn't hide forever. I knew since it saw me, I might be their next target. I could see the terrified expression on everyone else's faces as well, telling me it certainly was real since they could hear it as well...

(Part 2.)

As I was trembling in fear, my little brother, Antonio, ran over to me, hugging me in hopes to cheer me up. It slightly worked but I was still scared for my life, what was going on?

"Thanks Antonio.." I said to him, smiling and wiping more tears off of my face. After Antonio let go of me, I spoke up again. "I'm gonna go to bed, i'm tired" I said and began walking upstairs to my room."

When I got to my room I didn't bother to lock the door, I took off my ruana, and just lied down on my bed, calming down before eventually falling asleep.

I woke up to the sound of screaming, what time is it?I checked the clock on the nightstand next to my bed, it said 2:36 AM. but the clock was always 4 minutes behind, it was slow and old, and I bought it from a shop full of broken things. It was 2:32 AM, and for some reason I couldn't fall asleep again, so I took my blanket off the bed and draped it over my shoulders, keeping me warm and I grabbed a box of matched to light the Lantern that was on the nightstand as well. I grabbed the lantern and held it up, it lit up the room so I could walk over to the door. when I left the room I could see the faint shadows of someone downstairs, but now everyone else was asleep. what is going on..? I walked down a few of the steps on the stairs and stopped asking the mysterious figure; "Mirabel..? Is that you?"

All of a sudden it crept forward and I could see what it was- the lantern flickered and the candle in it burned out, I dropped the lantern and ran to my parent's room, screaming and banging my fist against the door, begging them to open the door quickly as I watched the figure get closer... and closer... and closer.. I could hear its footsteps but the noise all of a sudden just stopped... I couldn't hear anything besides my heavy, and deep, shaky breaths. then a whisper in my ear... all it said?; "I found you..."

before anything happen, my mouth was covered before I could scream again, and I was pulled into a room, I heard the door slam, and immediately lock. I was scared out of my mind until I turned around to see that the rest of my family was hiding in the room.

I was mad at them for not opening the door but also happy they were safe.

"Mijo, are you okay?!" My mother asked.

I didn't respond, I have never been so scared in my life.. I noticed that I had started sobbing, hugging my mom tightly as she held me closely. I could see how guilty everyone looked for not letting me in the room but I could understand they they probably thought I was one the "Alternate's" we heard about just a few hours ago.

My Abuela was holding the candle in her hand, the candle that contained all of the family's history, and Encanto's history with it. the flame that had burned for 50 years began to get dimmer. The flame was still lit though.

"We heard glass breaking out there.. what happened??" My cousin Mirabel asked.

"I dropped the lantern after I saw that- thing, from before walking towards me, and the lantern broke.." I said, calming down a bit.

"Oh.. well we are all so glad that you're okay." Mirabel said, smiling.

I let go of my mom and looked at Mirabel, smiling back.

(comment for part 3.)

[mythicallore]

The Black Monk

Hauntings and poltergeist acitvity are nothing new, and the lore of paranormal research holds countless examples. Yet, every once in a while a case will truly bubble up from the rest to present an extremely strange and strong account. Lying within the country of England is an unassuming, normal looking house, which nevertheless has managed to go on to accrue a reputation as one of the most haunted locations in the nation. Here at this abode we have a rather volatile, frightening, and violent entity that has come to be known as the Black Monk.

The year was 1966, and a family consisting of Jean and Joe Pritchard and their two children, Phillip, 15, and Diane, 12, moved into a quiet house on 30 East Drive, in Pontefract, West Yorkshire, England. It was not long after they had settled in that strange things began to happen around the home, starting, as these things tend to, rather innocently enough. The first main incident started on September 1, 1966, when the son Philip was staying at the home with his grandmother, Sarah Scholes, while the rest of the family was away on a trip to Devon. One day they they felt a strange gust of cold wind pass through despite the summer heat, shortly after which they witnessed what seemed to be a white powder or mist snowing down from the ceiling as the sounds of footsteps echoed from above. When they went to investigate, along with Scholes’ sister Marie Kelley, there were found to be inexplicable pools of water spreading on the floor of the kitchen, and even as they stared at this new development that bumping noise continued from the next floor up and that dust rained down upon them.

30 East Drive

At the time it was thought that the water was merely the result of a broken pipe, and a repairman from the water company was called in to take a look. However, after a thorough inspection of the kitchen there was found to be no sign of anything amiss, and the repairman had no idea of where the water could be coming from, even as it seemed to pool up even more as he was there. The pools would eventually stop, but everyone present was left completely baffled as to what was going on.

Later that same evening, the pools began to form again from nowhere, and this time this phenomenon was joined by a violent, jolting rattling of various cutlery and pots and pans around the kitchen. In addition to this, the whole area was sprayed with tea as some unseen force repeatedly depressed the button on the tea dispenser with great force and increasing speed. The cupboards and furniture of the kitchen also began to vibrate and move about without explanation or apparent cause. This was all followed by a thunderous bang from the outside hallway, but when they looked to see what it could be nothing was there, even though the hallway light began to turn on and off by itself even as they surveyed it. It was further noticed that a plant that was normally positioned at the foot of the stairs was now inexplicably sitting at the top of the stairs, and neither of them had moved it.

As they examined the hall, the crockery and cupboards in the kitchen began to vibrate again with greater vigor, and Kelley was once again brought over to observe the frightening show for herself. The activity once again died down, but when a heavy chest of drawers began to sway on its own volition later that night, both Philip and his grandmother packed a few things and headed to a neighbor’s house for the night, terrified of what was going on. Interestingly, by the time the rest of the family returned from their trip the strange phenomena seemed to have stopped. At the time they all thought that there had to be some normal explanation for what had happened, especially as there were no further disturbances. Indeed, it would not be for another 2 years that anything else out of the ordinary would happen on the premises, but when it did it did so with a vengeance.

Interior of the house

The long period of silence made it all the more shocking when pools of water started forming again all over the house, furniture was moved or rattled on its own, odd green foam would seep out of water taps, loud thuds and bangs would sound out from all over the house, doors would slam open or shut by themselves, and more ominously, family portraits and furniture would be found demolished or slashed and disfigured as with a knife. There were also unidentified sickening odors that would waft through the home, as well as anomalous noises including heaving breathing and, oddly, the sound of barnyard animals. Such things happened nearly everyday, and it all became so commonplace that the family took to calling the invisible entity “Fred,” putting an innocuous nickname to the faceless and gradually threatening intruder.

All of this steadily graduated in intensity, with things being smashed or broken by unseen hands, or objects flying across the room even in the presence of guests. Indeed, whenever people came over the phenomena seemed to actually get worse and more violent, and this apparently even happened in the presence of local police officers and the town vicar, leaving everyone dumbfounded and authorities unable to find any rational explanation. In particular Dianne seemed to be targeted, often waking up to the sound of heavy breathing or undefined voices in her ears, and there were times when she was allegedly downright physically assaulted by the entity, such as being pushed, having her hair pulled, and even on several occasions being dragged across the room. The entity was not above lashing out at others as well, and reports of being held down, pushed, slapped, or punched by the specter were common, even from those just visiting.

The phenomena seemed to work in cycles, with times when this would happen on a daily basis interspersed with long absences, sometimes for weeks at a time, but return it always did. In the face of the escalating malevolent activity, the Pritchard family reached out to the Church for help, and there were several exorcisms performed on the house, all of which seemed to just make the spirit even angrier. During these attempted exorcisms crucifixes were supposedly knocked out of hands or smashed to pieces, and inverted crosses were sometimes found painted or scrawled upon the walls in red and black ink, neither of which were kept in the house. In one particularly frightening incident an invisible force picked up a candlestick and held it in front of the priest’s face, which was enough to send the man of the cloth running away to never come back.

In addition to this, the malicious spirit began to make itself known and visible as a full apparition. At first these visitations took the form of Jean and Joe waking in the middle of the night to see a dark shape standing at the foot of their bed staring at them, which would then blink out of existence. On another occasion, Joe claimed to have awoken to see a figure in flowing black robes hovering over his bed. This strange entity was more often than not described this way, as dressed in black robes and with a hood covering his face, not unlike what a medieval monk might wear and which would earn the wraith the nickname “The Black Monk.”

Before long the Black Monk was seen lurking about by everyone in the family, and was even claimed to have been spotted prowling the property by neighbors and other locals. To make it all even creepier, the phantom would sometimes change things up by appearing wearing women’s fur gloves. Through this all it seemed to still have it in for the daughter Diane, and its attacks on her grew in ferocity. The girl would sometimes wake up with scratches and bruises on her body or be completely thrown from her bed, and on at least one occasion was actively choked and slapped around by an unseen force in full view of witnesses, who were often themselves not immune to these outbursts. Perhaps the scariest incident happened when Diane’s hair was seen to stand up as if someone were pulling and yanking on it, after which the girl was forcefully dragged up the stairs screaming.

The desperate family had paranormal investigators called in, and some interesting things were found out on the history of the land the house sat upon. For instance, investigator Tom Cuniff found that not only had the area once been the site of a battle, but also that it had once been used as the town gallows, and that hundreds of people had been executed here. In particular, there was supposedly a Cluniac monk who had met his end by hanging here, after being found guilty of raping and killing a young girl around Diane’s age back in the 16th century, and Cuniff believed that this was the spirit haunting the home.

Strangely, despite all of the intense paranormal activity that permeated this home, it would all one day suddenly cease just as abruptly as it had started. The weeks would go on with the family bracing for the Black Monk to rear his sinister head yet again, but it was completely quiet for no apparent reason, as if he had just gotten bored and stopped. The Pritchards would nevertheless eventually move out, and the house would go on to be a popular destination for paranormal investigators, several of whom would apparently uncover the fact that indeed the Black Monk was still around and as active as ever, perhaps perturbed by new trespassers to his domain.

A very well-known and harrowing investigation of the premises was carried out by seasoned paranormal researchers Nick Groff and Katrina Weidman, of the TV series Paranormal Lockdown, who recklessly decided to actually spend a few days locked up inside of the home, and almost as soon as the doors closed there were purportedly strange goings on. It started with a sense of an indefinable dread and a door being slammed shut almost immediately, which could have been attributed to a draft if it weren’t for what would transpire over the next 100 hours. Groff would say of his initial impression of the house thus:

Right when we stepped on the property it felt different. There’s an energy about it. When you take a step into that location it’s haunting, it really is, without anything really even occurring you just feel it, you feel the energy and the sense that something is there lurking in the shadows.

They would go on to be woken by slamming or banging noises in the house, and the next day they actually reached out to the entity, called it Fred, and asked if it would move a ball. Sure enough, the ball apparently began rolling across the floor of its own volition. It all almost seemed rather playful at first, but then things started to get knocked off of stands, thrown across the room, or broken, and a clock dropped off the wall. When Groff reached out to ask the spirit “Do you need a lot of energy [to move things]?,” it was captured in an EVP recording saying in Latin “desperata,” meaning “hopeless.”

On top of this, whenever the team asked the entity something it would remain silent, but the room temperature would drop dramatically. In addition, a shadowy figure was allegedly filmed moving across a room, and the nighttime noises occurred with increased amplification. To make it all even more menacing, a knife was inexplicably left on the stairs, and the crew began to complain of being pushed or shoved by something, with the co-host Katrina actually claiming to have been held in place, attacked, and scratched. Groff would say:

We’ve captured this solid figure moving past one of the doors, things moving on their own. My co-host Katrina, she got scratched too at one point so it got really scary as it escalated through our investigation of a hundred hours. When I was living there for 100 hours there were moments when I was terrified, like when I was sleeping and I was really deep in sleep. And anybody, I don’t care how strong you are or how big you are, you will be startled in the darkness, and you’re all alone, and something bangs really loud in the room and the door opens on its own, and you see an apparition – you’re going to get startled.

Other researchers have had similarly bizarre experiences on the property, with numerous instances of the ghost’s voice caught on tape and quite a few pieces of photographic evidence as well. Many of these investigators have expressed shock at the sheer magnitude of sinister paranormal activity at the residence, with some even claiming that they actually feared for their lives while there, and the Black Monk has earned a reputation for being one of the most violent and evil poltergeists around. Another pair of investigators from the TV show Ghost Dimension said:

When we arrived at the house I had been so excited to finally be filming at 30 East Drive. I had heard so many stories about what went on here through the 60s and seen so many photos of monk-like figures. We had never experienced so many paranormal happenings going in one place and in such quick succession.

The house itself was purchased by a man named Phillip Pritchard and later sold to the British advertiser and film producer Bil Bungay, who turned it into a sort of macabre tourist destination. He would later have the story made into the 2012 horror film When The Lights Go Out, directed by Pat Holden, and which is loosely based on the real events. The film crew apparently had quite a few paranormal experiences making the movie, which was supposedly partly filmed on location, and to this day it has remained a hotspot for debate, discussion, and investigation.

There have of course been plenty of allegations that this was all a hoax or a publicity stunt, and that there was never any haunting at all. However, this ignores the fact that the whole town knew of this haunting, and it was witnessed by numerous people, including neighbors, friends, police officers, and at least two priests. So concentrated was the haunting and so violent, that the case of the Black Monk of Pontefract has gone on to become one of the most well-documented and aggressive hauntings England has ever seen, with the house this day said to be ground zero for all manner of strange happenings. Whatever is going on here, be that an expansive hoax or a very angry and vehement spirit, the case has never been solved.

[greatreckoningsblog]

FAR STRETCH – LISTENING TO SOUND HAPPENING By Ella Finer

As everyday auditors (or what Don Ihde calls ‘ordinary listeners’) we listen to multiple temporalities at once, whether we are conscious of our practice or not. Not only might our auditory memory pattern other times and other sounds into what we are hearing now, but we are also continuously hearing sounds that have physically travelled long distances, travelling as well over long periods of time. From the faraway to the intimately close, our sound worlds are always overlaying times and spaces.

At the time of first composing these thoughts I wrote . . .

Listening now I can hear the sound of a plane like a heavy backdrop behind distant cars, close cars, a clock ticking, a noisy insect, these letters typing, my own breathing. And hear- ing the plane I think of the time when the air filled with glass from a volcanic ash cloud and planes were grounded and the sky was strangely loud in its unusual quietness. I remember my mother’s voice on the phone from Berlin, one of many people stilled in transit, while listening to the sound of a soundless sky and thinking it is not a small world, after all.

And now. Listening now I hear go-karts, traffic, thumping feet, the higher pitches of a washing machiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine. London City Airport’s thunder- ous traffic reminds me of the soundless sky and again I am transported.

Experiences of listening will never be as neat as a composed paragraph of sequen- tial sensations. The sonic world makes its own punctuation and rarely bound by rules. While this might go without saying, or writing, immeasurable layers of sound happen all at once and there is always more than meets the (selective) ear, the (editing) body, the (too slow) scribing hand. Yet, descriptions of close listening often augment texts attending to sound in various forms because how else can we account for listening in text – through the medium of our hands typing or holding a pen? How can a writer communicate some sense of the strange simultaneous sub- tlety/density of the sonic environment she is or was in? Daniela Cascella’s projecton ‘Writing Sound’ follows a method of writing-as-sounding, as she describes in her recent book wanting ‘words to follow the untidy movements in listening, to be mud and magma’,1 while David Toop continually asks his reader to question the tricky relationship of sound and writing: ‘The description of a sound, or the visual depiction of a sound, pulls sound into the world of things, the world of text. For writers this is a difficult and sometimes painful contradiction. When words describe sounds, do we think we hear those sounds?’2What follows, through my thinking about how we listen in ever-expanding and contracting proximities to sonic material, is my own reckoning with how to write (about) sound. I began above concentrating on the sounds I am surrounded by now (which of course always holds the ‘then’ and the ‘what will be’) to expose a method which is implicit throughout this writing: ways of reading/perceiving the layers of live sound overlapped again with associated sounds, played back in memory. Listening constellates the sound of times, spaces and contexts, marking similarities and significant differences in the act, and this attentive listening to the complexity of correlating times is key to this method I am working with here, a method which relies on keeping faith in the absence of fact, of feeling the trace elements of something in the air, on the air, of listening to the materiality of vibra- tions and hearing imagination as information.The motion of air, as Gina Bloom, Stephen Connor, Karla Mazzio and P.A. Skantze all acknowledge in vitally distinct ways exists in mutual relation with the performance of sound. As Connor writes:Air is the body of sound, in the sense that it is the occasion, medium or the- atre of sound. But sound is equally the body of air – air gathered into form, given itinerary, intensity and intent.3The itinerary, intensity and intent of sound as the motion of air is key for helping us think of sound travelling over long distances to reach ears, however far away they may be or however unaware they may be that they are hearing something. For Connor writes that air, being ‘neither on the side of the subject nor of the object’ has no ‘single form of being, manifesting itself in a multitude, and never less than a multitude, of traces and effects’.4 And with this he suggests that air as breath once inhaled and exhaled and returned to the air will manifest itself in many other sites of elemental motion, for example in ‘the hiss of a tire’ or in ‘the vortex of leaves on a street corner’.5Air recycles, and through doing so can touch other times.My practising with this methodology in my own work with sound has led me to theorise (in other places/papers/articles) the continuous performance of sound even in the absence of any nearby auditor, so that regardless of the presence of ears in the wake of its immediate happening, sound continues to perform. So let me then propose that the sounds taking place without witness do vibrate on, travel- ling through time and space and perhaps even through a part of the soundscape I just took a moment to listen again to in writing, and you took a moment to read. When a tree falls in the forest and there is no one there to hear it, it does make a sound.As cultural historian Hillel Schwartz writes in his recent book Making Noise, rather than performing for no one, ‘the tree resounds’ and then ‘far away, some- one catches wind of something unidentifiable, a very quiet noise, or feels a tremor underfoot’.6 The performance of sound is apprehended in its wake at varying prox- imities, from the very close to the far distant, to the furthest limits of imagination. This long (and longing) listening is Schwartz’s project, as he listens back to ‘the intensity of sound as the intensity of relationships: between deep past, past and present’.7 As such, his book begins in the very deepest past, in the myths of cre- ation and re-creation stories and our ‘newest versions of creation,’ where science explodes matter into vital new forms. He writes:Before thunder, before planets and suns, before light itself, we have the astro- physicists’ Big Bang. A figure of speech meant sixty years ago in mockery, the Big Bang has become the popular emblem of a prevailing cosmology, putting a loud exploding at the start of time and the heart of matter.8‘It is not possible to begin quietly’9 Schwartz argues and yet this demands listening back on an epic scale, an imaginative listening to the time before ‘the start of time’, dreaming up the noisy beginnings of our universe and putting faith in listening not only to a sound of the very deep past, but to a sound with no body present to perceive it. However, the fact that traces of the early universe can be heard in the white noise of a detuned radio is extraordinary evidence that sound does ��reap- pear’, returning through deep time. Whether or not we ‘apprehend’ this sound in actuality or in imagination, does it matter if we cannot fully comprehend what this material (white noise static) is or means? Rather than obscuring some vital com- municative information, what if the material of sound is the vital communicative information.This provocation is most vital when it comes to listening to the unintelligible voice, distorted or distanced from its ability to communicate language. How do we ‘read’ difficult-to-decipher voices on a badly tuned radio or a degraded cassette tape? Here we most often listen to the medium as material, for example in appre- ciating the clicks and cracks of an old vinyl record. When the voice isn’t mediated through technology, though, and we work to hear an unintelligible voice through live geographical distance, we are actively listening to time, to the material of time travel, as frequencies in the sound strip away the farther it moves through space. Proximity affects the sonic material we eventually hear, and also how we hear.But what if the sound is so distant and/or so affected by the medium it has trav- elled through that we hear a version so removed from any ‘original’. What if we might not hear the sound at all? Here I would like to introduce and listen back to a sound event, which, for most of its intended audience, never happened.In March 2013 I was invited to make a piece of work for an art fair at Kensing- ton Olympia, specifically to make a pre-recorded composition for the loudspeaker PA system. Kensington Olympia is a large exhibition hall in London, which for over more than a hundred years has played host to public shows and exhibitions from horses to ‘ideal homes’, from allergy conventions to computer sales. I was told when I went to record in the space that once the grand hall had been trans- formed into a Venetian city scape for a spectacular performance at the end of the nineteenth century billed as ‘illuminated aquatic festivities’.The hall has seen many transformations, and these scene changes happen quickly, often without visible trace. The work I made was a three-part composi- tion, played at the beginning, middle and end of each day at the fair over the PA system and intended to reflect this constantly changing space and the very different publics it has housed and ‘addressed’ before.I had always wanted to refer to the particular medium through which the work was played, so that in my compositions the expected loudspeaker broadcasts of ‘address’ and ‘announcement’ would be reconfigured in order to test what we might assume to be the traditional subject matter, volume or intelligibility of the PA system’s transmission.But the mediums, both the technology of the speaker system and the landscape and architecture of the great echoic hall, through which the sound was broadcast, reconfigured my composition in ways beyond my own or anyone’s control.Played over the PA system at Olympia, the medium performed the materiality of its existence, as the performers voices became unintelligible once played over the huge booming speakers into the vastness of the hall. And the background sounds [of workmen dismantling and building walls in the interval day between two shows] reintegrated into the acoustic atmosphere of the hall and were all but lost, save a few loud bangs.What caught the ears of the people attending the fair was the very material tex- ture of the loudspeaker sound. We become alert to the sonic quality of PA systems and listen even if we are not sure what we are listening to, or for. In this instance people listened, but to such a vastly altered sound from the original recording. The composition played over the PA system transformed dramatically in its style, form, volume and thus its meaning and intention. Small sonic details were stripped out of the original recording by the speakers and the hall it played into. The sound work was composed anew by the speakers and the space so that by the time it reached the ears of those on Olympia’s floor it was a completely changed work.This is an example of the way sound keeps happening, continuing through times, spaces and the mediums of its transmission, while continually composing and recom- posing its sonic properties to be heard differently at distinct distances and locations. In a strange turn of events I was asked to lower the volume of the work at Olympia. The reason? That people were stopping what they were doing to listen. While this might seem absurd, in the context of an art fair the loudspeaker sound work was interrupting sales. While attempting to make a loudspeaker nearly inau- dible is a strange contrary task, the resulting effect of this practice was to witness my work playing out to a host of auditors who were not even aware they were listening. Not aware that sound kept happening even if for them now, still, it remains unhappened.