I don’t know if it’s appropriate or if it defeats the purpose, but I chose a room in the apartment I’m staying in. There’s something about this room which gives me the sense that every object has a life and a voice of it’s own; when I am there I feel shrouded with unnameable spirit. It’s where my host parents have put the weirdest items in their collection: stone gnomes, broken chandeliers, abstract art, candle sticks, a lot of things in threes. There’s a statue of a crow with a piece of plastic stuck to it that will follow your eyes around the room if you let it. They don’t let any light into the room so even when the window is open the sounds from outside seem to justify the goosebumps.

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I heard the sound of what sounded like someone putting giant dishes away, yelping, rushing sounds, high whistling, and intermittently the caws of a crow. Birds flirting, humming, and from inside of the room a low whirring. I’m bad at describing sounds in the way requested – sorry. And once I opened my eyes I noticed that every time I’ve sat in this room by the window the sky has always been blindingly white.