Soundwalk

My roommate and I recently visited Carl Schurz Park on 86th right off the East River as an attempt to make something of a boring Saturday afternoon. Upon returning to the city back in August, I've noticed more and more people out and about with their dogs. I don't think I've gone a day so far without seeing at least a handful of dogs leading their owners down the sidewalk.

The sounds of leaves whooshing and blowing in the wind are subtly layered by the jiggling of metallic dog collars and the occasional bark. Strangers, whose dogs confidently approach one another to size each other up, bring up idle chatter (“What’s his name?” “How old is he?” “He’s a real friendly boy.”) to make light of this unexpected meeting. As I lie on my roommate’s picnic blanket while she reads next to me, the crisp pages from a new book occasionally let me know that she’s turned to the next page. I also hear the couples sitting all around me, some within earshot while others sit further away, but all of whom speak at an almost inaudible level that make it difficult to hear exactly what they’re saying. A word or phrase sticks out among the largely unintelligible conversation. One couple brings their child to the park, probably three or four years old, who stomps around the small grassy area with careless and irregular steps. 

Then suddenly splat! I look over and see a bird has pooped on my bookbag.

A man stands by the waterfront, a considerable distance from my roommate and I, and obnoxiously talks to an elderly man and woman about politics. Even from this distance I can hear every word that seems to pierce through the wind. I can’t help myself but become frustrated with the volume at which this man speaks and the content of this seemingly one-sided conversation. The elderly couple sit facing the river with their backs to me and talk to the man so softly it’s impossible to make out what they’re saying, but their body movements indicate that they in fact reply. I shoot the man dirty glances to no avail; he doesn’t seem to notice. But eventually the man leaves and order is seemingly restored in the park. Leaves continue to blow in the wind and the couples murmur all around me.