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The music I heard from outside
is the sound of the breeze fluttering through the archways and pouring
over the opening, a deep hum like someone blowing into a six-story beer
bottle.
The acoustics are utterly
alien. The slightest noise is amplified tenfold, echoed and re-echoed
thousands of times until it's barely recognizable. A handclap sounds like
a gunshot in the grand canyon, a drawn-out ripping sound that fades
slowly. Our voices are almost impossible to understand. Each syllable of
each word takes on a voice of its own, repeating and reversing and
tripping over itself.
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