“Today I’m once again sitting in Kensington Gardens, I sat on my favorite bench, Bench C, I say this isn't without reason. This bench is the tallest of them all, so sitting isn't particularly comfortable. This keeps me focused on my note-taking, preventing me from dozing off.”
In front of the bench there are two trees, the one on the left is younger and smaller, the one on the right older and thicker. Between them, I can see another tree farther away. Its upper branches twist around each other like snakes, and sometimes birds stop there. The sunlight today is perfect, the sky almost completely clear. Light filters through the leaves of the tree on my left and falls warmly on me. Beneath the tree on my right, a squirrel stands upright with its paws against its white chest, as if searching for something. The park feels unusually quiet today, maybe because of the weather. Even the sound of cars from the street behind me seems softer and calmer.“I think this is why I enjoy studying sound, when I hear the faint rustle of the grass nearby, I look down and often find a small dog walking under my bench. If I weren't sensitive to sound, I'd surely miss many such surprises.”
But I’ve also realized that if I only let myself hear, it becomes boring. Still, I don’t mind repeating this familiar routine. A crow just flew past; their calls are longer and rougher than other birds’, often coming in rhythmic groups of three. People are walking and talking in front of me, there’s so much happening that I don’t know what to write down. A little girl passed by with her mother, who gently asked, “Are you flying?” That moment stayed with me.From somewhere far away I hear birds again, though not as often as before. Leaves are falling beside me and even onto my keyboard. The last two times I took notes with my phone, but today I’m using my laptop, maybe that will influence my results somehow. The leaves have started to turn yellow now, and the trees show more layers of color. The ones near the path are a brighter yellow. When the wind blows, the leaves fall toward the people walking by, it’s beautiful, and it makes the sound of the rustling leaves almost disappear, leaving only the crisp sound of them landing on the ground. I start to watch how they fall and spin through the air. On this side of the path, more leaves are falling because the wind pushes them this way. I have a feeling that our investigation will become duller, because we’re becoming too familiar with this place. Do you remember the tree I mentioned earlier, the one behind the two in front of me? It’s large, and half of its leaves have turned red, which makes it stand out. It now takes me about five minutes to find something that truly excites me.
About twenty-five minutes passed before I heard another crow. In my earlier notes, I never mentioned smell, because there usually wasn’t anything remarkable. But now I smell grilled meat, which is strange in such a calm place, almost rebellious, and it makes me hungry. A magpie is walking near another bench, not mine but Bench D. Magpies walk in such a funny way, they jump forward with both feet and move their heads at the same time. Behind me, I hear the deep, long sound of a big truck passing by, the kind of sound that insists you notice it. There are fewer joggers today, probably because the park feels too calm and beautiful. Even cyclists are pushing their bikes instead of riding them, though that might just be the rule on this path.
A gray-brown bird is calling from the tree on my left. It looks like a larger, more streamlined sparrow. It calls to another of the same kind farther east, its voice a bit hoarse and flat, not full. The calls fade quickly. From deeper among the trees, I can hear other birds, but I can never describe their sounds precisely, and that makes me a little sad. Someone pulling a suitcase just passed by, normally that sound would be annoying, but here it’s rare enough to be pleasant. A leaf just fell perfectly into my bag, as if it wanted to go home with me. I’m happy to let it, though not yet. Look, the child in the stroller passing by is holding a leaf too. She wants her leaf to go home with her. Maybe only children do that, picking up leaves and letting them come home. Adults only take home the ones that want to follow them.
Sometimes I wonder who the dogs belong to. They run around freely, and all the people walking past seem unrelated to them. Figuring out which person is the owner is sometimes more interesting than watching the dogs themselves. The colder weather actually feels better for thinking. When the sun was stronger earlier, I almost fell asleep, my mind moved slower. Now my hands are stiff from the cold, but my thoughts are quicker. I don’t think I can produce any useful knowledge from this. I’m not a historian, I tried searching online for half an hour but couldn’t find any history about this small area. I’m not a landscape designer either, so I don’t know why the six benches aren’t evenly spaced.
“Still, their spacing feels rhythmic somehow: 16, 58, 56, 62, 58, 22, 32. Why are the benches near the park gate always closer together? When I sit on Bench A or F, I can hear more street sounds than park sounds, which makes the rhythm of what I hear tighter, car movement is always faster than the soft rustle of leaves.”
Just now, strong sunlight shone on me, and even after it passed, I could still feel its warmth. I often hesitate when describing the people who pass by, should I write down their gender? Eventually, I decided it’s not necessary. I can describe them through other details instead. If someone has long hair, I just write “a person with long hair.” Knowing their gender doesn’t help me see them better. But when the wind gets too cold, I can’t focus on anything. My nose starts to run, and I only want to escape from the chill.A small dog just walked past with a rectangular patch shaved into its fur, maybe because of a skin problem. I have to admit, my observations today feel very different from before. It’s related to time, when I stay here for hours, everything starts to feel too regular. In the first hour, I still enjoy the stillness of the park and everything drifting through it. Just now, a white, long-legged dog that looked almost like a fox passed by. I’m not sure whether I should even write these things down, because it seems that all the knowledge we gain about a site eventually goes beyond the site itself.