Noise
sounds the exclusiveness of my own listening. It produces in sound a bubble against all other sounds, demanding to be heard, however silent it might be. Noise does not have to be loud, it has to be exclusive, excluding temporarily all other senses in the insistence of its sensate moment. This moment is invisible but physical: it pulls my listening down to my feet, vertical, intense, isolating; rooting me in the location of my own listening - listening on a heavy spot, and hearing nothing but the noise that produces it. Its intense ephemerality weighs heavily in my ears, abducting my listening, taking over my body, my sense of self, into an extreme of sound that is that of all sounds, and there it illuminates the sensate sense of the heard that I do not know how to speak about apart from as the temporal and invisible imprint it makes on my body.
