What I hear

I did my sound walk around the subway which in a sense is a neighborhood in New York. As I walked down steps to the platform I heard very little. It was quiet enough to hear the sound of crumbing paper as people turned the pages of their books and newspapers. As a train approached the station, it broke the pseudo silence. Its’ brakes roared as they brought the train to a stop. Then again there was a silence, which was even quieter then before as people waited for the doors to open. As they did sound came flooding out, penetrating the silent platform. As I boarded the train I realized it was emanating from a loud conversation that three men were having as they leaned against the door across from the one I was entering. Then in the foreground I heard the very familiar ding-dong that warns people that the doors are closing followed by a galloping sound created by people running down the stairs in an almost always futile attempt to catch the train. This noise evaporated as the doors shut, terminating with a clicking noise. Then there was a whining noise in the background created by the train, as it got up to speed. It sounded as if the train was struggling.
These noises repeated time and time again as the train hopped from station to station. The roar of the brakes, the ding-dong of the doors, the galloping sound of people running, the click and finally the whining of the train as it got back up to speed. I thought by listening closely to the subway I would hear things that I have missed the thousands of other times I have ridden the subway but I had heard all these sounds before. Then I realized separately they were just noises but together they made up a sound track that I have heard every time I have gone beneath New York, to ride the subway, a sound track whose ever presence is comforting.