An Auricular Secret: Who's Crooning? Who's Crying?

[Stephen Torelli]

He's been around so he knows how to live… prime rib, seafood, fruits and vegetables left aside dumpsters by supermarkets that cater to the rich and he sleeps in hotel lobbies and in rooms with no-show reservations. He has no family that lives nearby, nor job, or money.

His wife passed and as a result, his warm life has vanished, so when the blues casts its mighty hue the old man visits that little spot off Governors Island in the Bay, a place insignificant to most, surrounded by the Harbor's blue-gray water. He floats out by means of rubber raft set aside by city workers, a natural current takes him there and he beaches himself on a tiny stretch of pebbles, where he powers up to reach his zenith… a place of sounds... an auditory sensation.

He's not magic, nor is this tiny island… it's a phenomena of vibrations where voices and music of sorts resonate to sooth and invigorate, and today as he nestles on the pebbly beach, he listens to a young man crooning, originating from Hoboken Bay, echoes that touch the old guy's soul… and not long after, from Red Hook, a baby wails for mama, seeking more, yet mama doesn't know why, "Al, my boy," she says, "you are never satisfied; even if you owned New York, you will want Chicago!"

No one knows about the auricular secret but the old guy, and he's going to keep it that way.

 

[Angela]

This is an interesting image.  I love the idea of a secret place where all sounds converge and you can selectively eavesdrop.  Kind of my idea of one of the rooms in heaven.

[Robert Crisman]

Ah, Frank and Al. They live!