In the summer of 2020, at the beginning of the Pandemic, one of the first things I noticed in the city, was how quiet things suddenly felt. Air traffic decreased greatly. My house, positioned in North Central Seattle, had been a major flight path to Sea-Tac Airport at particular times of day. I always noticed increased activity between 9-11pm, because that is when I liked to record! Many times, I would have to adjust my schedule, because it was too loud. But once the Pandemic hit, the nights became perfectly still, even in the middle of the city. During the mornings, sea planes would land on nearby Lake Union. This sound also decreased for some months. Suddenly, there was a lot less noise coming out of the sky, and subtle sounds stood out more: bird calls, neighbors walking by. A Pandemic way of hearing was appreciating the certain new quietude. However, with the noiseless nights came some discomfort, about what was going on in our world.

Then, as the summer heated up, other sounds took prominence: frequent emergency vehicles and police sirens. I noticed increased helicopter activity and during BLM protests, and more than once I heard SPD fire flash bang grenades as I lay in bed, coming from across the hills from nearby Capitol Hill. There were stories in those sounds. I imagined the Pike/Pine corridor, city streets I knew so well in my old neighborhood, and I imagined the fighting. Later, in the morning, real images on the news joined the sounds I had heard. But as I lay in bed, I felt the whole city, and the whole country, listening to what those sounds meant. I felt many ears listening to the troubles around us, and I had difficultly sleeping.