I love the way things sound. I love the sound of footsteps in the snow or grass or sand or watery beach, watery grass, watery stairs on the subway, on the subway. I loe the sound of footsteps, is all. I loe the sound of the wind, and of the snow and rain falling. I love the sounds of people talking and laughing in coffee shops, stores, libraries, the hush that falls before someone is going to start talking. I loe the way the wind sounds when I walk, I love how it sounds to walk, to hear breathing, to hear crunching of hair against headphones, and hands against face. I love the sound of yoga, and cuddling, and the rushing of a plane taking off. I loe the sound of people in love, or fighting, or crying. I love sounds, a lot, I love that I can hear at all, I am forever grateful.
But I hate the sound of anything in the seminar room where we have 90% of our classes at the Drama Centre at UofT.
I know that sounds bad (pun intended) but I do love the people and the content that gets thrown around in there, I love the conversations I have and the moments of brief epiphany that I receive while existing in that room, but I hate how it sounds. I hate how people eat in their and it sounds so annoying, I hate how the projector sounds, and the lights and the heating. I hate how it sounds to move things, to stomp, to fall on the table, to write. I hate the sound of writing or typing in that room, and I hate how it sounds when I’m alone in there.
I love the people, I love the content, but I hate how the room sounds.
I did not take a picture of this room to spare you the awful lighting, too, and I am not saying I never want to be in this room again, but it is just so hard to be in a room so much when you hate how everything sounds in there.
I hate how my voice sounds in that seminar room, but I speak a lot anyway.